Flawed Design
by Shaliel Larkspur
Summary: Draco looses everything he's ever known and is thrust into a world he doesn't understand nor belongs to. In order to survive he must learn to become something he hates...a muggle. Rated M for language and adult content. Draco M./Harry P.
1. Chapter 1

**FLAWED DESIGN**

"_If you have nothing to lose then you have nothing to live for, you just do whatever you do because you don't care what happens, you don't care about the consequences, you just do it..."_

I do not own any characters from the Harry Potter world; I just use them for my own amusement.

Pairings: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Genre: Drama, Romance

The wind is cold; ripping through my thin jacket as I sit crouched against the rough side of a downtown building in Boston. I can feel the damp air crawling up from the worn out soles of my sneakers, curling around my legs and around my chest where it seems to crush the air from my lungs. Winter here is so unlike winters in London. In London there was never any real winter, not like here. There were no blustering winds and freezing temperatures, no damp air that threatens to steal your breath away. Winter in London was beautiful, like a postcard you receive in the mail or a painting on the wall at Christmas. In London people treat snow like a magical phenomenon, and even though they have no idea how to deal with it at the best of times, at least they don't act like rabid pack animals. In Boston there are some that run to the grocery store the day before a predicted snowfall to stock up on everything they can get their hands on, simply because the weather people are hyping up the end of the world. I've watched from my perch on a park bench or city sidewalk as grocery stores turn into madhouses. I've watched as mothers tug small children behind them as they come out of the stores with loaded shopping carts, keeping more of an eye on their goods then their offspring. Sometimes I giggle to myself as I watch. People are so…..odd sometimes.

Yet, there are some things to be said about winter in Boston that London doesn't have. The city here does a marvellous job decorating for the holiday season. The Christmas decorations are tasteful and beautiful, something I can relate to. My family has always done Christmas with style and grace, never going over board, just embellishing enough to impress. Walking around the city I have seen incredible trees near the Prudential Center and at the department store Macy's. Even at shopping areas like Fanueil Hall and Downtown Crossing. The trees on the Common and along the main streets in the Back Bay are lit up with white twinkle lights that make my eyes hurt when I stare at them for too long. When the snow falls, and for about half a day afterwards, it's beautiful.

I sigh as I glance up from under my fringe, not bothering to shake it from my eyes, taking in the people as they bustle by, arms loaded with Christmas shopping. I eye the bags and wonder to myself what they've bought. No doubt some useless little trinkets or clothing their children will never wear save for Christmas day because it will make their parents smile. I watch as the mothers and the wives chat to one another as they head into the local coffee shops and I can't help but remember a time when my own mother use to do that. Mind you, she would never be caught dead going to a place like Starbucks…but a nice cozy little bistro perhaps.

Rubbing my chilled fingertips together I lick my lips, wishing I could just walk into the coffee shop and order a large mug of coco, maybe with some whipped cream. I smile at the thought as a woman walks by, looking down at me with an offended scowl and my smile turns into a sneer as I stare up at her. She hurries off in the opposite direction and I shake my head. What did she think I was going to do to her? Bite her ankles? The very thought makes me want to laugh, for even if I wanted to I wouldn't dare, I still have some of my decency.

Shaking my head I stand, stuff my hands into my jacket, tucking my chin into the turned up collar. The wind is colder now that I'm standing up, but I need to walk. Sitting on the cold concrete has made my backside numb. I don't know where I'm going, I almost never know where I'm going, but I don't mind. My feet will take me where they want to go and I trust them not to get me lost. In fact, my feet have taken me to some pretty interesting places. Last week they took me to a little park with an ice covered pond. Not much really, but when you add geese trying, and failing, to walk on the slippery surface it becomes quite amusing. I think I stayed there for the better part of the day watching them. It was amazing to me that they never figured out that they could just walk on the snowy banks instead of the ice.

Now, as I trudge down the sidewalk I make sure I side step the people passing by; I know from firsthand experience that I will get knocked down or pushed into the busy streets if I don't. People here are rude to those less fortunate, that I have learned the hard way. I once made the mistake of asking an elderly man for a few dollars to buy some food back in the spring, and all I got was spit on. Can you believe that? After that fiasco I didn't ask anyone for anything ever again. I simply took it when they weren't looking. Oh I got caught a few times here and there, but I've actually gotten quite good at it now. They don't even know that their wallet has gone missing until they get home.

I remember a time, years before I ever came to Boston, when I was one of those people that looked down on others less fortunate then myself. A time when I would be the one to scowl at someone for sitting huddled against a building looking scruffy and miserable; a time when I wasn't the one dodging people on the streets but the one being dodged. There was a time when I had everything in the world that I could have ever wanted and then some. A gorgeous house (a manor really), a large room over looking stunning gardens with a massive feather bed covered in satin sheets, more clothing then I could have ever worn in a lifetime…the list could go on and on. I had everything. Loving parents, friends that envied me and respected me, I even had enemies that I was proud to call my own. There aren't many people in this world that can say they enjoyed having enemies, but I did. I relished the challenges they brought to me.

At five years old I was the happiest boy in the whole world. Anything I asked for I got, no questions asked. My parents doted on me as I was an only child and the heir to our family fortune. At eleven years old I believe I was the happiest child in the entire universe. I was going to the best school in all of the United Kingdom to learn from the finest professors and I was going to become great, just like my parents. Although at eleven years old I also had my first taste of rejection. It wasn't a big deal really, just some lousy little boy with messy black hair and dorky round glasses... All I had wanted was for him to be my friend, I even held out my hand like my father had shown me, but the boy looked at my hand like it was covered in slim and rejected me. To say that his rejection hurt was an understatement. What eleven year old wants to have his offer of friendship turned down from a boy that didn't even know you? What eleven year old wants to be humiliated in front of every first year student in his school for trying to be nice? Needless to say he became an enemy.

Life was good to me, back then…

Now though, as I turn and cross a busy street, my cheeks flushed red from the chill of the air, I can't help but wonder what happened to it all?

Sure, my father was sent to prison for helping a well known murderer and terrorist, and I did try to kill the headmaster of my school…I even went as far as to sneak a bunch of miscreants in to help take it over. It was all suppose to go so smoothly. Just kill the headmaster, regain my family's honour and name, and move on. We would continue with our lives the way we had always lived it, I was even supposed to get married to a pretty little thing named Astoria Greengrass. But no, that didn't happen. Instead all I got was an ugly tattoo, dead friends, a father in prison, a mother who grew more furious at life with each passing day until she killed herself, and a ministry decision that all of my family's fortune be stripped bare from our vaults.

I was supposed to have been set for life. I should have been set for life, but everything fell apart and far more quickly then I could have ever thought. One moment I was on the highest pedestal I could have imagined for myself, the next I was down in the dirt with nothing save for the clothes on my back. Once I was one of the most powerful members of society and in a matter of days I was lower than street scum, worse than a squib and no better than a muggle. The same day that the Ministry seized everything in my family's vaults was the day that I went from being Draco Lucius Malfoy, heir to one of the greatest fortunes and land titles in wizarding Britain, to 'boy'. Not even Draco, or that Malfoy boy, nope…just 'boy' said with a sneer that would have made even my father proud.

Shaking my head at the memory of that day I turn up the collar of my thin jacket and duck into a small alcove just as snow starts to fall from the sky. I don't have anywhere to go tonight, not that it's any different from any other night mind you, but I can feel that tonight is going to be brutally cold. I'll need to find more adequate cover than this if I don't want to become a human popsicle in the morning. Maybe I'll sneak into one of the shops along the street here and hide in their back room, or at least their loading docks. They're not warm by any means but I should be able to get out of the worse of the freezing weather.

As I continue to rub my fingers together for warmth, I have to think to myself that the reason I was sent away to this place was for the fact that the Ministry was trying to get me to freeze to death. That way they would be rid of me for good and not even have to get their hands dirty in the process. Truth be told I'm actually quite amazed that they didn't just give me over to the remaining Dementors when they had the chance….but then again, what could be more of a fitting punishment for all that I had done in the War then to strip me of all my magic, then shove a portkey at me that would send me to the other side of the world? Here I had no one to turn to, no one to even talk to. I was a stranger in a strange land, and that is never a good feeling to have. What made it worse was the fact that I knew what I had been, I knew magic existed and it had coursed through my veins; I knew that deep down inside, under the scars from having that magic ripped away from me, I was still a wizard. Nothing would ever change that, ever.

I sigh deeply at the thought. I may be a wizard deep inside in a place that I will never again be able to reach, but that didn't change the fact that I was now an ordinary human living on the streets of Boston over 3000 miles away from home. I was a dirty vagrant much to thin for my own health with hardly a clue as to how the muggle world worked. All I knew was that you needed a job to make money (obviously I am not that slow witted as to not know this), but in order to get that job you needed something called a diploma. That's something I didn't have and without it I was screwed. No one here cared if you had graduated from one of the top wizarding schools in Great Britain and had achieved near perfect N.E.W.T.S. To them real magic didn't even exist.

Stamping my feet against the cold I turned and ducked back out into the street in hopes of finding somewhere that I could spend the night, passing only a few people now as the skies begin to darken. Along the way I lift a wallet from a wealthy looking man in his late fifties and check the contents as I walk, pocketing the sixty or so dollars before dumping the rest of the wallet into a rubbage bin. I have enough on me now to maybe get a cheap room at one of the less seedy motels near downtown but I'm not sure that I want to spend it all in one shot. It isn't very often that I lift more than ten dollars in one day and I want to cherish it as much as I can. This could be all that gets me through the next few weeks.

An hour or so passes by before I stop and get a tasteless coffee and a bite to eat from a vendor who looks at me like I have something he'd rather not catch. I can't even sneer at him for this because honestly I probably look like something a cat hacked up. I eat quickly, though not too fast that I feel sick, then savour the coffee, enjoying the cheap aroma as I walk. I only walk about three blocks before the snow has started to fall so thick now that I can't see more than twenty or so feet ahead of me and suddenly my decision has been made. I don't care if I have to starve for the rest of the week, I'm going to get a room and take a long hot shower. To hell with being careful with my new found money. What good would it do me anyways if I freeze to death?

0-0-0-0-0

The motel that I find is cleaner than I thought it would be and the woman behind the counter doesn't even bat an eyelash at me when I hand her the crumpled twenty from my pocket with shaking hands. She simply takes the money, hands me a key and points me in the direction of my room, though she does warn me that she won't tolerate any 'funny business' while I'm here. I almost laugh at her when she says this because obviously she thinks that I'm an addict or worse. I assure her that I won't cause any trouble for her before I turn and make my way down the hall.

My room is unremarkable to say the least; containing a small but comfortable looking bed, a night stand with a single lamp and a tiny bathroom to the side. After locking the door behind me I instantly I strip down to the skin and head for the shower, excited about the prospect of being clean again, though I cringe when I think about putting on my dirty clothes again. There's not much I can do about that though so I just shrug it off and soap myself up, grimacing when I see how brown the water turns at my feet. It takes me more than twenty minutes to scrub myself clean and by the time that I step out I'm scrubbed raw but cleaner than I have been in weeks.

Wrapping a towel around my hips I wander back out into my room and sit down on the bed, bouncing a little on it with a small smile. I was right about it looking comfortable and I instantly want to just curl up and go to sleep, but I don't. Instead I get up once more and grab my clothes, taking out the last little bit of money and tossing it onto the bed before returning to the bathroom. Once again the water turns brown as I scrub them out as best I can using the bar of soap at my disposal, and by the time that I'm done my arms hurt from rubbing the fabric together but at least they will be a little be cleaner when I put them on in the morning. I make sure to get all of the excess water out of them before hanging them up, then turn and stand in front of the mirror.

The reflection that stares back at me looks like Draco Malfoy but doesn't at the same time and for some reason it makes me sad. My skin looks like it's been stretched over my bones and I can almost count every single one of my ribs when I take a deep breath. All of the scars that I have received over the past years stand out clearly against the almost translucent skin and I trace my fingers down the longest of them; the one that runs from my left shoulder down to my naval, the one that almost killed me when I was sixteen. I shake my head clear of the memory that tries to form in my mind of the night it happened and focus on the rest of my thin body. The bones in my shoulders and hips stand out far too much as well as the ridges of my spine when I turn around. Lifting my hands to my face I push my too long hair out of my eyes, tucking it behind my ears before letting out a long sigh. Eyes that were once a cross between silver and blue are now a dull charcoal, and the lifelessness that reflects in them are un-nerving to say the least. The only thing that hasn't changed its appearance is the dark mark tattooed to the inside of my left forearm. The stark blackness of it stands out so much on my white skin that I want to cry. If it wasn't for that mark I probably wouldn't be in the mess I am now.

I suddenly want to break the mirror for reasons unknown but I stop myself before I can do any damage. There would be no point in it after all; even if I did break the mirror the person that had been reflected back at me would still be here, and that would negate the whole reason for breaking the glass. I look at myself in the mirror for a moment longer before a knock on the door of my room makes me jump and let out a small yelp.

Warily I make my way to the door and lean against it. "Yes?"

"Hello?" Is the reply from the other side of the door.

"Can I help you?" I ask through the door, my hand itching for the feeling of a wand long since gone.

There's a pause on the other side before the voice replies. "Can you open the door? Please?"

I frown. "Who are you?" It comes out sharper than I expected it to and I wince.

"My name is Sam…my mother owns this place…she gave me some things to give to you."

That makes my eyebrows shoot up and without thinking I unlock the door and open it a crack. A young girl stands in the hallway with what looks like an armful of clothing clutched to her chest, and her face is flushed with embarrassment as she looks at the floor.

"What are those for?" I ask, nodding towards the clothes.

The girl, _Sam_ my brain supplies, looks down the hallway to where the front desk is then back at me. "My mom said you looked like you could use these." She thrusts the bundle of clothing at me before shoving her hands into her pockets and trying to look anywhere but my scrawny chest. "They're just clothes that have been left behind from other people, but they're washed and everything so she said to give them to you."

My eyes widen and I open the door a little to look down the hallway towards the front desk, where I can see the woman from earlier poking her head around the corner with a smile small on her lips. I smile back before turning to the girl in front of me. "Tell her thank you for me."

Sam nods once with a slight blush to her cheeks before taking off quickly towards her mother. Shutting the door and locking it once more I walk to the bed and sit down on it. The clothes smell a little musty but they feel clean and I set the whole stack on the mattress. There are several shirts and one sweater that has seen better days, as well as a pair of jeans and some mismatched socks, but what gets my attention is the puffy winter jacket on the bottom. I stand and try it on and almost jump for joy when I zip it up and it fits like it was made for me. Now I'm grinning as I take it off and try on the rest of the clothes; the shirts fit good enough and the sweater is a little bit big on my thin frame which is fine by me, but the jeans fall from my hips and pool around my feet the instant I try putting them on. It's an easy fix though since I have a belt from my other jeans. In addition to the clothing there is also a set of mittens, a scarf and a knitted hat that may or may not have belonged to a child.

I'm amazed at the generosity and I sit there and stare at the clothing after I've folded it all back up neatly at the foot of the bed. Maybe everyone in this city isn't as bad as I thought they were, I think to myself as I burrow under the blankets and close my eyes. I decide that if the woman at the front desk doesn't try to use pepper spray on me I'm going to give her a huge hug in the morning and a kiss on the cheek. That's right, the boy formally known as Draco Malfoy, Ice Prince of Slytherin, is going to hug and thank a muggle for all he's worth.

The thought makes me laugh and eventually after a few minutes I fall asleep with a smile on my face for the first time in almost a year.

0-0-0-0-0

When I wake up the next morning I pull on the new clothes, stuff my feet back into my sneakers, then proceed to try and get myself looking more like a human. This time when I look in the mirror I laugh because staring back at me is someone that, although still looks like a haunted boy from the streets, now looks like a haunted _Weasley_ boy from the streets. My eyes tear up as I take in the horribly mismatched outfit I now don and it feels good to laugh, even if I am laughing at myself. I get myself under control again after a moment and attempt to brush my teeth with my finger once I make the glorious find of toothpaste under the sink (a find that I am taking with me for sure).

After I run my hand through my hair I wander back into the main room and tug on the hat and jacket and wrap the scarf around my neck, the mittens I stick into my pocket while my old clothes I stick in a garbage bag I also found under the sink. The walk back up to the front desk is a quick one and when I see the older woman from the night before I smile at her.

"I see that they fit you." She says with a nod towards me. "Can't say that you look distinguished…but at least you look warm."

I let myself laugh at the remark and do a small turn, not really sure why I'm preening under her gaze though doing it anyways. "Thank you very much for the clothes. I know I probably still look like a mess but you're right, at least I'll be warm now."

The woman smiles at me. "I like that accent of yours, where are you from?"

I smile, though on the inside I'm trying not to remember home. "I was born in Wiltshire." I don't add _'in a gorgeous manor over looking acres of property including our own private lake'_ because somehow I don't think she will believe me.

"Wiltshire…never really heard of it." She shrugs before adding. "Well in any case I love your accent, it's so posh."

I try not to roll my eyes at the statement and instead smile at her. "Posh sounding or not it doesn't do me any good here it seems."

I don't mean for it to come out the way it does, but the moment the words are out of my mouth the woman frowns and shakes her head before saying. "If you don't mind me asking…how did a good looking boy like you end up on the streets of Boston so far from home?"

I knew this was coming and I shrug my shoulders. "Went through some bad times and I had to leave. Not really much of a choice on my part. I don't want to be on the streets but what other choice do I have? I can't get a job and I have nowhere to live." I gestured down to myself with a grimace. "This is the first time in months I've had new clothes, and they're not even all that new." Something close to pity flashes in the woman's eyes as I talk and I brace myself for the lecture I'm about to get.

"You know…I had a son about your age not too long ago." She pauses for moment. "I know this is going to sound…weird or something but…if you want you can stay here," she holds up her hand at the protest that's forming on my lips. "In exchange for working of course since you'd have to earn your keep. What do you think?"

"I…I don't know what to say." I reply, bewildered that this stranger is offering me a place to stay and work. "I don't know if I can…isn't there a rule against doing something like that?"

Smiling, the woman shook her head. "No there's no law saying that I can't hire who I want to hire, and if that person stays here as part of the pay, they can't say a damn thing about that either."

"But…why?" My voice almost catches as I say this and I can feel my hands start to shake as well as the rest of my body. I clasp my hands together. "You don't even know me."

"I don't have to know you to see that you are a good person." The woman tilts her head at me with a kind and considering smile as she looks me over. "You've obviously been through hard times and I believe that everyone should be given a second chance." She paused, than added. "I don't care what you've done in the past, but if you're willing to work hard and earn your keep here then you can stay. I'll teach you everything that you need to learn."

I'm floored by her offer and her words and for a moment I think I just may pass out from the relief of knowing that maybe I've just found a permanent way off of the streets. I look at the woman for a moment longer before I offer the first real smile in months and straighten myself up, holding out my hand towards her. "I'm Draco."

Taking my hand and giving it a soft squeeze, the woman smiles. "I'm Rita. Nice to meet you Draco."

Words of thanks seem to be stuck in my throat and for the first time in a long time I feel the desire to cry from joy and not from pain and sadness. Rita seems to pick up on this and she comes out from behind the counter to wrap her arms around me. She's a good head shorter than I am but the strength of her embrace is enough to make me feel safe. A strange feeling after having nearly a year of feeling nothing but insecurity and loneliness, but a good feeling none the less. When she pulls back Rita lifts a hand and swipes the hair from my face with a soft hand.

"I think maybe you were supposed to come in here, like maybe we were supposed to meet." She laughs and shakes her head as she places her hands on her hips. "Maybe this is my second chance too." I frown at this and open my mouth to ask her what she means, but she shakes her head and takes my hands in hers. "Never mind me. Lets get you properly set up in a room and get started getting you back on track."

Before I can stop myself, not that I would even want to at this point, I pull Rita in again and hug her form all I'm worth, burying my face against her shoulder. "Thank you."

Rita rubs circles on my back and speaks softly into my ear. "You are more than welcome."

As we stand there, both clinging to the other like a lost mother and son, I know that things have taken a turn for the better. I know that even if the road is rocky and there may be times I want to give up, this woman will be here for me where my mother never was. I don't know why Rita wants to help me; why she would bring a dirty teenager off the streets into her home, but I won't question it, not right now anyways. I can feel a small amount of distrust still lingering from all of the others that betrayed me but I push that away as far as it can go while I hug this woman. If she needs me as much as I think she does, then I am more than willing to let myself acknowledge the fact that I need her just as much.


	2. Chapter 2

Flawed Design:

Unexpected visitors

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from the world of Harry Potter, I just like to take them out to play every once and a while.

Thank you to everyone that left a review!

0-0-0-0-0

The music from my headphones pounds into my ears as I sit at the front desk of the little motel I work at, and I sing along wordlessly to my current favourite artist Olly Murs. The upbeat tempo helps me concentrate on the work in front of me strangely enough, even though Rita has told me countless times that the volume of my ipod will make me go deaf by the time I'm thirty. I just laugh at her and say 'well that gives me ten more years doesn't it?' Rita just shakes her head at me and smiles to herself. I know she's just doing what she thinks is best as my surrogate mother.

She's done a lot for me in the past two years; since that night I came in looking like something a cat had hacked up, all scruffy and dirty, with no home and no job. I had been living on the streets for almost a year before I met Rita and I count myself lucky even now that I found her little motel. At the time I hadn't even wanted to spend the money on a room, but the freezing cold temperature outside had made up my mind and I found myself standing in the lobby not too long after. For reasons that I still don't fully understand Rita took me in and gave me a job and a place to call home. It isn't much, but there is a room upstairs that I call my own; literally it's just a room, with a few bits of furniture because I eat downstairs with Rita and her daughter Sam in their little apartment.

Sometimes I wonder what the people I used to know would say about my living conditions now but at the same time I really don't care. Sure I miss the vast property and the fact that I could almost get lost on it, but after all that I've been through, this place is as much a home to me as the Manor ever was. I probably would deny it if anyone ever asked me, but I kind of like living in a place where I could walk from one end to the other in less than five minutes. While the Manor in Wiltshire was gorgeous by everyones standards, it was cold and lonely at the best of times. The only places I felt really at home was the library and my own bedroom. Mostly I think it was because both of those rooms had comfortable furniture and thick carpets as well as huge fireplaces to warm them in the winter. Every other room was so large that I could yell and have my voice echo back to me more than once. It was un-nerving.

Other than my living arrangements many things have changed about me in the last two years and I know that if some of my old friends were to see me now they wouldn't recognize me. Before I was banished I looked every inch the part of the stuck up aristocrat, with the arrogant expression, slicked back hair and tailored suits. Then I became the street urchin that looked half starved to death, with greasy hair and hollow eyes. The transformation between the two was like night and day and when I remember them both it makes me cringe.

Now I look more like myself, the way I was maybe meant to be more or less. I've forgone the severe hair gelled look (I don't know why I used so much of that crap to begin with) and now wear my hair in a fashionably tousled way. My eyes no longer look haunted, though I'm almost sad to say that any of the blue in them has long since faded, leaving my eyes a strange sort of frosty grey. Rita says my eyes are beautiful and like nothing she's ever seen before, and at times I agree with her, but there are other times when I look in the mirror and they scare me a little. The rest of my body holds the biggest change since I came in off of the streets and it's what would throw my old friends for a loop if they ever saw me again. Before I was always pale and too thin for my own good; looking more like a wraith then a human, but with regular meals and exercise I've filled out quite a bit. My skin no longer looks translucent and I have the beginnings of a tan from long hours outside on my days off from working at the motel. I actually enjoy the sun and sometimes I'll go over to the nearby park and just lay there reading or drawing for hours. Rita sometimes laughs at me for loving the sun so much and she affectionately calls me her adoptive british salamander.

This salamander has also developed quite the addiction to tattoos believe it or not. It started when I decided that I had enough of looking down and seeing a constant reminder of the War and the horrible choices that I made. I hated the Dark Mark and the way it stood out so starkly against my skin, and I hated it when people would ask me what it meant. All I could tell them that it was a stupid mistake and that I wish I had never gotten it done. I started to wear long sleeved shirts everyday so that I wouldn't have to answer any questions about it until one day Rita mentioned that if I hated it so much why didn't just blend the tattoo in with others so that it didn't stand out so much? At first I thought she was crazy and we even had a fight about it; after which we didn't speak for almost a week until I realized I had over reacted and went to apologize to her (not something my oold self would have ever done let me assure you). We sat down after that and had come up with a good design that would cover up the Dark Mark (not that she knew what it was) and over time I had my entire arm, shoulder and part of my neck covered in snakes intertwined with narcissus flowers. The tattoos took the better part of a year to complete and they were all painful in their own way, but I'm glad I got them. Now when people ask me what my tattoos mean I can tell them that they are a tribute to my mother and father.

There are so many other things that have happened to me over the past two years that I've been living with Rita and at times I stop and think 'did I really do that?' For instance for the past year I've been working towards getting what Americans call their high school diploma. It's been rough because it has meant that I needed to learn about the country that I'm now a resident of, and truth be told I really don't care all that much about this countrys history. I'm from a magical community and even though I have no magic left in me that doesn't mean I want to be a full muggle. Of course it isn't like I have a choice in the matter. As soon as Rita knew that I didn't have my diploma she signed me up for the online courses that would allow me to get it. It didn't seem to matter that I had no record of previous schooling from England (I still don't know how she managed to fake my information to get me listed as an immigrant) and before I knew it I was taking American schooling through the internet. To this day I don't know what I dislike more, the schooling itself or the bloody internet; both frustrate the shite out of me to the point where sometimes I wish I was a vagrant again. There were a fair number of fights surrounding this high school business, but once I learned that there was no fighting her on the subject I forced myself to do the work. Currently I am finishing up what would be my grade twelve year and by far my best subject is chemistry. It's very similar to potions and probably the only reason why I'm so good at it.

At the moment I'm working on an essay for a class called 'social studies' and I hate it. There are no formulas and no reason (to me at least) that I should even need this information lodged in my head; it isn't like I'm ever going to use any of this in the future. Rita tells me that even if I think it's useless I still need to pass it to get my diploma…I just agree with her so I don't have to listen to a lecture on it.

I'm about a third of the way done the stupid essay now and I'm stuck on what else to write, so I've opted to just put my pencil down and rest my chin in my hands as I listen to my music. My ipod is one of the few muggle things that I am absolutely in love with. Ever since I came to Boston I've become rather fond of muggle music and listen to it every chance I get, which drives Rita and Sam crazy more often then not because they have a hard time getting my attention at times. My favourite bands right now are The Beatles, Lifehouse, Evanescence and strangely enough Marilyn Manson. Right now I'm listening to 'bring me to life' with my eyes closed, and it's loud, which is probably why I don't hear the voice from the other side of the desk until someone behind me pulls my head phones off.

"What the bloody…" I trail off when I look behind me to see that Rita is standing there with her hands on her hips and an annoyed look on her face. "Oh…sorry."

"Sorry?" She shakes her head and gestures to the person at the desk. "This gentleman has been standing here for almost five minutes trying to get your attention and you haven't even opened your eyes!"

I highly doubt that it's been that long since I closed my eyes but I don't say anything because Rita has that look on her face like she's ready for a fight. Instead I sigh and mutter an apology before turning my attention to the guy at the desk, and my jaw drops.

"You've got to be bloody kidding me." I sputter as my heart rate soars to a place where it's hardly comfortable.

Standing before me, looking like he's just been smacked in the back of his head with a large branch is none other than Harry the-bloody-boy-who-lived Potter. _How the hell did he find me?_ I think frantically to myself. _No one even knows where I am!_ Panic starts to sink in and I can feel my body getting ready to jump from my chair and run. Either that or reach across the desk and punch him square in the face and _then_ run. He looks much the same as he did the last time I saw him; messy black hair, bright green eyes (though he's not wearing his dorky round glasses which throws me for a loop for a moment) and clothing he must have picked out with his eyes shut. I can tell even from where I sit that he is still much shorter than I am and that makes me almost grin; I like being taller than most people.

Potter still looks like a fish out of water as we stare at one another and I'm not entirely sure which one of us looks more shocked to see the other. His face goes from open bewilderment to shock, then back to confusion, before finally settling somewhere in the vicinity of outraged. I'm sure my face looks the same, though I think I'm doing a better job of hiding it.

"Malfoy?" His voice is a bit deeper than I remember, but then again the last time I saw him he was a scrawny seventeen year old.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Potter."

There are a few moments of silence while we continue to stare each other down before Rita clears her throat and breaks the tension. "Old friends I take it?"

Neither one of us takes their eyes off of the other as we answer at the same time. "No."

Rita laughs a little. "Could have fooled me."

My eye twitches when I see Potters mouth quirk up at the side in a slight grin. I want to hit him so badly right now, and I would if I wasn't so sure that Rita would kill me.

"What do you want Potter?"

"Well this is a motel right?"

"Obviously."

"Well then shouldn't the answer to your question be just as obvious?"

"You'd think so wouldn't you?" I fire back as my hands curl into fists.

Potter tilts his head to the side and considers me for a moment then sighs. "You think I'm here to bring you back don't you?"

My whole body tenses when I hear this and I glance at Rita before I look back at Potter. "What makes you think that?"

Potter almost laughs. "The fact that you look like you're going to get up and run for the hills kind of makes it seem like your running from the law or something Malfoy." He glances down at my hands with a smirk. "You really should let go of that pencil…it didn't do anything to you."

Blinking, I look down at my hands and realize that I have quite the death grip on the offending writing tool, to the point where my knuckles are starting to turn white. I throw the pencil away from me and cross my arms over my chest instead. "So you're not here to take me back?"

Shaking his head, Potter leans against the desk, making me move back a little in my chair. "Not everything is about you Malfoy."

I open my mouth to reply to that but Rita beats me to it with a loud laugh. "Draco likes to think he's the center of the world at the best of times." At her words I shoot her an icy glare at the same time Potter laughs at my expense. "Now, if you don't mind me asking… Mr. Potter was it? Are you going to be staying here or are you just here to see Draco?"

"I was planning on staying here for a little while actually. Seeing Malfoy was just a bonus." Potter says with a sweet smile that makes me want to throw up. "I'm travelling across the States and Boston is my first stop."

"That's a bunch of shite and you know it." I mutter as I clench my jaw tight. "Why the hell would _you_ of all people be traipsing across the States? Don't you have a wife and family back home that will be wondering where the hell you are?"

Potter shrugs his shoulders at this statement. "I'm not with Ginny anymore and I don't have any kids." He eyes me with something close to amusement and I feel my jaw clench even tighter. "Do you have any more questions or accusations for me? Or am I free to check into a room now?"

Before I can answer Rita pulls me away from the desk and opens up a new guest file on the computer. "I'll do it. Draco, you can take Mr. Potters bags to his room." She looks over her shoulder at me and the expression isn't an amused one. "Whatever you're going to say just don't alright?"

I glare at her in response before I stand up and walk around the desk to where Potter is standing. I was right about his height and I smirk a little as I look down at him; the top of his head only comes up to just under my chin. "Shrink did we Potter?" I can't help saying something as I look him over, instantly enjoying the flush that spreads across his cheeks.

He glares at me. "Just because I'm not a giant like you doesn't mean I shrank Malfoy." His chin juts out defensively which is lost on me since he still has to look up. "I happen to be average height for someone our age, what's your excuse?"

"What's my excuse?" I smirk at him. "I don't have one. I was just born to be taller than everyone else."

Before Potter can say anything more Rita pipes up from the side. "All I need is a bit of information from you Mr. Potter before I can give you your room key."

I tune them out as Potter begins to talk and spend my time instead trying to figure out why, after three years of not seeing anyone from the wizarding world, Harry bloody Potter turns up on _my _doorstep. Granted, it isn't like this is a private residence, but why _here_ of all places? If his story is true and he's going on a cross country trip why wouldn't he stay in a better place? He has the money that much I know…so why Rita's? These questions and more are running through my head as Potter talks and laughs with my surrogate mother, and I find myself taking in his appearance (mostly to take my mind off of the fact that he is treading on _my_ turf with _my_ new family).

He does look similar to the way he did when we last saw one another, but I start to notice a few more things about him now that I'm standing closer. Obviously he got his eyes fixed, whether by magic or muggle means I don't know nor care, and the lack of those hideous round frames makes him look completely different. While his hair is still a disaster it almost suits him now, you could maybe even call it stylish, but that was a big maybe. From this close I can see that he has a tragus piercing in his left ear as well as an industrial bar through the upper part of the same ear. That makes my eyes go a little wide since I didn't think Saint Potter would be the type of guy to get pierced like that, if at all. I was right about the clothes though, he does really look like he picked them out with his eyes closed. A pair of ripped jeans that are a little too big for him cling to his hips with the help of a thin black belt; the only thing keeping them up it looks like. His shirt is a little too short for him and I can see a thin strip of tanned skin from his lower abdomen showing. To top it all off he's thrown a worn out denim jacket over it all and stuffed his feet into a pair of faded converse sneakers that look as though they're about to disintegrate.

"Alright Mr. Potter, here's your room key. Draco will show you where your room is and help you with your bags." Rita's voice cuts through my critique of Potter, making me blink at her words.

"He has one bag!" I protest, gesturing to the knapsack that he's been clutching in his hand the whole time. I know that he probably has an undetectable extension charm on it, but it still means that he only has _one_ damn bag. "He can carry it himself!"

Rita gives me a look that only a mother figure could and I shut my mouth. "You can still show him to his room Draco. Stop acting like it's the end of the world."

Letting out a sharp sigh I reply. "Fine. What room has he got?"

"Room thirty-five." Potter supplies.

It's a room a few doors down from mine own and I have the instant thought of demanding that he has a different room, but the look on Rita's face makes me swallow those words. I give a short nod before turning on my heel and walking away from the desk, leaving it up to Potter to follow me. I can't believe what's happened in the past twenty minutes, I really can't. This morning when I woke up I thought today was going to be like any other day; I was going to work on my essay for school while I watched the front desk, then when Sam came and relieved me round 3:30 I had planned on going to the hardware store to pick up the paint to redo the lobby and hallways. Rita taught me a while ago how to paint and I've slowly been redoing all of the rooms because her back is too poor to be painting herself. I actually enjoying painting because I get to put on my music and fully ignore everyone else.

"How long have you been here Malfoy?" Potters voice catches up to me in my train of thoughts and I glance behind me to look at him.

"Why the hell should I tell you that?" I ask.

Potter stops mid-stride and frowns at me. "You're still such a prat, you know that right?"

I laugh at that. "What makes you think I care about your opinion of me?"

"Because you've always cared what other people thought about you." He replies smugly before he walks closer to me. "You care what _everyone_ thinks of you."

I draw myself up to my full height and look down at him with narrowed eyes. "A lot has changed Potter. I'm not the same person you or anyone else knew, so don't pretend that you know me."

Potter tilts his head at me. "You still look like the same brat I used to know, you just have fluffy hair."

I'm about to open my mouth to say something about how I'm not the same when his last remark catches me off guard, and I suddenly find myself laughing. "Are you serious Potter?" I have to hold my hand against my stomach because it's starting to hurt from laughing, first from the comment, then because of the look on his face. "Did you just call my hair _fluffy_?"

Potter frowns at me and crosses his arms over his chest like he's been offended. "Shut up Malfoy."

"_Fluffy_!" I crack up again when I say it and soon I have to wipe a tear from my cheek. I haven't laughed like this in a while and though I don't like the fact that Potter was the one to make me laugh (with a remark about my hair no less), I can't stop myself from doing it. "You know…that's rich coming from the guy that looks like he's either just woken up from having a fit or a really good shag."

Instantly Potters hand goes up to push through the thick black mess atop his head at the same time that blush stains his cheeks again. "Whatever."

"You always had the worst comebacks Potter." I've calmed myself down enough that I can talk without choking on my own air, though I'm still grinning. "Even in school the best thing you could ever come up with was 'shove off Malfoy'." I mimic what I thought his voice had sounded like at school and it earns me an icy glare.

"Shouldn't a Death Eater like you be at home plotting some sort of revenge? Why are you working in a place like this when mummy and daddy gave you everything you could have ever wanted?"

Before I know what I'm doing my fist has connected with his jaw and my whole body is shaking. "Don't ever talk about my parents or my life again Potter." His nose is bleeding and my knuckles are probably stained with his blood, but I don't care. "Just because you're the fucking boy wonder doesn't give you the right to burst into other people's lives and start saying whatever you want to them." Potter mumbles something I don't quite catch and I glare at him as I lean against the wall opposite to him. "Sorry Potter, I don't speak stupid."

Potter glares at me as he shakes his head and pulls out his wand, flicking his wrist quickly towards his nose and fixing it, before pocketing the wand once again. It happens so fast that I barely see it, but the residual feeling of magic in the air leaves me a little breathless. I haven't been around magic for three years and yet my body still reacts to it and a lot stronger than I would have thought possible.

"I said you were supposed to be dead anyways so why should it matter what I say about you?" Potter says after he's fixed his nose and leaned himself against the opposite wall.

I blink at him. "Excuse me? What the bloody hell do you mean by that?"

"I mean…three years ago it was reported that you were killed during a raid on your stupid Manor. Everyone was talking about how you tried to murder a couple of Auors and were killed in the process."

"That's a lie!" I blurt out. "They took me from my home and stuffed me into a cell with no windows and no way out. They didn't answer any of my questions when I asked them what was going on…they just stripped me of all my magic and put a portkey in my hands! I didn't even have a chance to defend myself against whatever they were accusing me of!" The boy in front of me looks like he doesn't believe a word I'm saying, but if there was ever a time when I didn't care about what he thought, it was right now. "I'm not lying Potter. I have no magic left, no family, no title, no _name_…nothing left of what I had back then. _Nothing_! They took everything that I ever had and tossed me away like garbage."

My voice has gotten louder as I speak and Potter glances to the sides to see if it's drawn any attention to us before he finally speaks. "…Why would the Ministry do that? You were cleared of all charges weren't you?"

I snort. "Cleared yes, thanks to some good testimonies, but do you really think that they were just going to let me go? They waited until my mother killed herself before they came for me." I watch as Potters eyes become round and I sneer at him. "Yes Potter, she killed herself…she was too much of a coward to face life without my father and too selfish to think about the only son she would be leaving behind."

Still Potter can't say anything and I find myself closing the gap between us until I have him pressed against the wall and looking up at me. "You have no idea what I've been through for the past three years and I don't care if you ever do. Just stay away from me alright? I don't want to have anything to do with that life. I'm not the same Draco Malfoy you knew anymore… I haven't been him for a very long time." I pause and search his eyes for something I can't put my finger on, so I'm not sure if I see it or not. "Don't fuck up what I have here or this time I will kill you."

My voice is low when I say this and deadly quiet, and I enjoy the look of brief fear on his face when I speak. Taking a step back from him I point down the hallway. "Your room is the fourth down on the right." Then, without another word, I turn and walk away from him.

My fists are clenched so tightly together by the time I get back to my room that I've left crescent moon shaped nail marks in the palms of my hands. Taking a deep breath I let myself fall down onto my bed and stare up at the ceiling. Potter has made all of the painful memories I had carefully hidden in the back of my mind come raging out at me, and it isn't something that I will ever forgive him for. I buried those memories for a reason and now that I'm remembering them I can feel hot tears coursing down my cheeks; tears that I don't even try to wipe away because they would just be replaced by more.

All of the grief and hate that I have towards the wizarding world and the Ministry and at all of the unfairness of what I was made to endure since I was sixteen catches up with me, and I pound my fists against the mattress. To anyone who was watching me it would look like I was throwing the most epic of temper tantrums, but what else was I to do? I didn't want to destroy everything in my room that I had worked so hard for, and I didn't want to scream at the top of my lungs because Rita would probably send me away thinking I was deranged. I didn't have a wand or any magic to use to vent my frustration out with either. Sure, I could go down to Potters room (if he even decided to stay here that is) and maybe kicked the shite out of him for making me remember everything; but then I would end up in jail for murder.

After a while though my rage calms down and I curl onto my side facing the window. The sun is still bright and it's probably only two o'clock in the afternoon, but I find myself getting tired, and eventually I fall into a fitful sleep with the hope that this has all been a cruel dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Flawed Design:

Truce?

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing but the right to take a few characters out of a brilliant story and have a little fun putting them into my world of make believe.

0-0-0-0-0

I don't know what time it is when I wake up from the impromptu nap after my confrontation with Potter, but my head hurts and my eyes feel puffy and sore from crying. The sky outside is a brilliant orange mixed with reds and blues so it's getting close to nightfall when I finally pull myself up into a sitting position on my double bed. Running my hand through my hair I take a deep breath, not really wanting to leave my room but knowing that I have to all the same. Rita will have wondered what happened to me, and besides that I'm hungry and I want to know if Potter left yet. Surely after I warned him to stay the hell away from me he would see that he isn't welcome here and take himself somewhere else. Then again, when has he ever listened to me?

Groaning, I rub the sleep from my eyes and push myself up, wobbling a little as the last haziness of sleep wears off. The bathroom lights are almost too harsh for me when I turn them on but I have to wash the dried blood off of my knuckles from punching Potter. It's been a long time since I had blood on my hands and the sight almost makes my stomach turn. I don't regret hitting Potter, mostly because he deserved it, but seeing the evidence of it makes me remember the time when I was forced to torture people and that is never a good memory. Once I've scrubbed away all of the blood I run a hand through my hair and leave my room, heading downstairs where I know dinner, and a whole lot of questions from Rita, will be waiting for me.

The hallway is barren of anyone else as I make my way downstairs to the front desk where I see Sam sitting with her legs tucked underneath her and a book in her hands. Over the past two years she's become like a sister to me, even though at the beginning she had an unhealthy crush on me (it took me almost a month to convince her that I didn't feel that way about her before she finally realized that maybe she should just lay off). Since then she has been one of the closest friends that I've had, other than her mother of course, and she's one person that I can talk to about pretty much anything.

"Where have you been? Mum's been asking for you." Sam says as I come closer and hop up on the desktop. She pokes me in the thigh and sets her book down before leaning back. "She said that you got into a snit because of some guest staying here."

I snort and roll my eyes at this. "I didn't get into a snit…I just…had a difference of opinion about someone staying here, that's all."

Sam laughs and shakes her head. "That isn't what I heard, but whatever you say Drake." I cringe at the nickname but know that there isn't anything I can say to get her to stop calling me that. She once told me that she would stop if I went on a date with her, to which I promptly said that she can call me that until the day that she dies. It isn't that I don't find her attractive, because she is, but when I first met her she was thirteen years old and I've always seen her as more of a sibling to me. For the first time ever I felt like an older brother and it would just be wrong to date ones little sister (even if you aren't actually related).

"It's true!" I protest. "I don't care if you don't believe me." I turn my nose up in the air and get a harder poke in the ribs for my efforts. Swatting her hand away I sigh and look up towards where Sam and her mothers apartment is; when Rita first took ownership of the motel she converted a set of rooms at the back of the motel on the first level. "Where's your mum?"

Sam twirls a bit of her strawberry blonde hair in her fingers and shrugs her shoulders. "Last time I saw her she was talking to some guy with black hair. He was British and really cute." Her eyes gleam as she looks at me before she adds. "Do you think he would go out on a date with me?"

I gape at her because I know that she's talking about Potter, and that feeling of rage starts bubbling up in my chest again. "He's not your type Sam, trust me. He's a good for nothing, worthless piece of twat."

"First of all…that didn't make any sense, and second…he's the one that you don't want staying here isn't it?" Sam tilts her head to the side and the side of her mouth twitches up in a small smirk.

I glare at her when she pokes at me once more and I grab her hand when she tries for my leg again. "Potter is not the type of guy you need Sam. He's…he's not trust worthy, and he's rude and stupid and…"

Sam laughs, tossing her head back before giving me a calculated look. "Alright, alright… no need to get your panties in a twist. I was just saying that I think he's cute and you know that I have a thing for men with accents."

I frown at her and cross my arms over my chest. "Just…don't try and get too close to him. He isn't staying here for very long, plus he's too old for you."

"Too old for me? Drake…he doesn't look any older then seventeen!" Sam protests with a curious frown on her face. "Besides, I'm fifteen! I can take care of myself…"

"I went to school with him Sam so believe me when I say I know what kind of person he is." I interrupt her with a shake of my head as I start picking at the hem of my shirt. "Potter…he always had a fan club, people that would always follow him around and tell him how amazing he was and how special. He never told them off and he never once looked like he hated the attention. He's been that way since we were eleven."

Sam listens raptly, probably because I don't usually talk about my past so this is a rare treat for her." So you've known him since you were both eleven? Did you go to that boarding school together?" She asks after a moment, trying to keep her voice casual as she leans against the desk and looks up at me.

I sigh, knowing that I've just put my foot in it now. "Yes we went to school together. We were never friends though because he always thought he was better than me." I suddenly think back to the first time that I met Potter in Madam Malkins robe shop and the way that I was so excited to be going to Hogwarts, and the way that Potter looked at me like I was a piece of dirt. Granted I may have said something stupid about that giant friend of his, but really, half giants and giants are usually very violent and scary to an eleven year old. How was I supposed to know that Potter had latched himself onto the only employed half giant in Britain?

"Drake…?" Sam's voice cuts through my memories and when I focus my eyes on her again she has a small understanding smile. "My guess is that there's more to your relationship with him then you let on."

I blink at her, frown, and then sigh. Sometimes she is so much smarter than people give her credit for. "You could say that."

"What were you like as a kid? I bet you were a menace…you have that look about you." Sam says with a teasing voice as she kicks her legs up and sets her heels on the desk near my legs. Almost instantly one of my hands goes to her sneakers and the rainbow shoelaces that always drag on the ground; I've never been able to keep my hands still.

"I was perfectly fine as a child." I defend myself with a haughty look, but it soon falls apart when Sam raises an eyebrow at me. "Alright, alright…maybe I wasn't the perfect child but my parents loved me and I had a lot of friends that thought I was pretty great too." The moment the words are out of my mouth even I can tell how fake they sound.

Sam says nothing as she smiles.

"You know, when I first met Potter I held out my hand to him because I wanted to be friends and he turned me down. He's the only one that's ever done that." I frown as I say this, not really knowing why I'm telling Sam about any of it, but somehow knowing that I need to get all of it off my chest. "I was so mad at him for not wanting to be my friend that for the next few years I did everything in my power to make his life a living hell. If he didn't want to be with me then I was going to make sure that he had a shit time at school."

'That's a little harsh don't you think?" Sam asks as she watches me play with her shoelaces.

I shrug. "To me it wasn't harsh…but then again when I was younger I always had a sense of entitlement."

"What would happen if you tried to be friends with him now? You're obviously still craving his friendship."

I scowl at that and shake my head, even though I think on some level she may actually be right. "I don't want to be his friend and he doesn't want to be mine. We're too different and we have nothing in common."

Sam shakes her head and gives me a small smile. "I think you should try. People change all the time and you might find that you've both changed enough that you can be friends…or maybe more than friends judging by the way you talk about him."

Instantly I feel my face heat up at her words and I stop playing with her shoelaces so I can turn a full on scowl at her. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well…mom always said that when people start saying how much they hate another person that there's always a small part of love in there as well. Maybe you only hate him because you know that somewhere deep inside you actually love him."

All I can do is blink at her for a moment before I shake my head; still trying to fight down the blush I know is staining my cheeks. "I don't love Potter."

Sam shrugs her shoulders as she takes her feet off of the desk and stands. "Whatever you need to tell yourself." She leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek before she pulls back. "I think you both need to sit down and have a long heart to heart about whatever happened to you in the past. It isn't healthy to keep everything bottled up." She pauses for a moment before adding. "You don't like to talk about your past with me and mom, but you can talk to him about it since you grew up together. He'll understand you better than we can."

I want to protest at her words, but they make too much sense to me to argue. "When did you get so smart?" I ask with a small smile.

"Since being around you." She replies.

I have to smile a little more at that and I pull her into a comfortable hug against me. I know that she's probably right and that I should sit down and talk with Potter, clear the air between us, but it's going to be hard. There's years worth of animosity between us and I'm not really sure that anything can be done to fix that. I've done terrible things to him and there's a chance that even St. Potter will never forgive me. In all respect he has every right to tell me to go to hell, but I know I have to try. My past is always going to haunt me if I don't face it and what better way to face it head on then to offer my friendship to Potter once again?

0-0-0-0-0

I don't see Potter for another four days and it drives me insane that he is in the same building as me but I haven't seen a trace of him. At first I thought that maybe he had left after the first night, but when I asked Rita if he had checked out she told me that Potter would be staying for a few weeks, as he needed to get everything in order before setting out on his so called sightseeing trip of the States. Personally I thought this was a load of shite since Potter has never really been a planner; always flying by the seat of his pants into everything, but maybe there was another reason for him to be staying longer. When I had voiced the opinion to Sam she just smiled and shook her head at me.

"You think he's staying because of you, don't you?" She had asked.

I didn't want to admit it but I had nodded my head. "Yes."

"I think it's cute. You two obviously have something connecting you so yeah, maybe he is staying so he can see you." I could tell Sam had been teasing me just a little but I couldn't bring myself to be angry with her for it.

"Have you seen him at all?" I had asked instead.

"He's talked to me a couple of times but he never stays to talk too long." Sam had paused like she was trying to remember something important. "Come to think of it…he always left just before you came into the room."

I had groaned and hid my face in my hands. _Of course he would leave when I came into the room! I told him that I would kill him if he came near me again_. Sam had asked me what was wrong, but I couldn't tell her what had happened any more than I could tell her that I had been a wizard; I didn't want her opinion of me to change.

After our conversation I tried my hardest to be in the same place as Potter, without him running away before I could talk to him of course. I even went as far as to knock on his door on the night of the third day to ask him if he wanted to join Rita and Sam and myself for dinner, but he wasn't there. Like a child I had kicked his door before walking away and grumbling to myself. I didn't think that he would take my threat so seriously since he's never listened to a thing I've told him before. That night I didn't sleep well at all because I was trying to stay awake to catch Potter when he came back from where ever he had been; I ended up passing out sitting against the wall.

The next morning I was in such a bad mood that I hoped I didn't run into Potter since I would probably be a complete arse to him; and just because karma is a bitch that was when he decided to walk down into the lobby just as I was sitting down to take my shift at the front desk.

He looked much the same as the first day he walked in here and my cranky brain wanted me to say something about his ill fitting clothes, but I somehow managed not to insult him. He didn't even notice me until I said his name as he was walking past the desk and the sound of my voice made him jump.

"Potter." My voice is a lot more sharp than I would have liked it to be so I clear my throat and try again, even as Potter is looking like a scared rabbit about to bolt for the door. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"…Why?" He looks towards the door again and inches closer to it.

"I'm not going to bite your head off Potter…can you just come over here for a minute?" I ask getting impatient; I ready need a cup of coffee it seems because I really don't have a great temper in the mornings when I don't sleep well.

Once again Potter inches towards the door and I have to wonder where his fight went; he seems much too meek for his own good. "So you can beat the shite out of me? What, breaking my nose wasn't enough for you?" His voice is defiant but it lacks any real fire to it.

Running my hand through my hair, causing it to stick up in all directions I'm sure, I then hold up my hands in the air in surrender. "I swear to Merlin that I'm not going to hurt you." He eyes me with scepticism and I groan before letting my head fall to the desk with a loud thunk and a mutter on my lips.

After a moment I hear Potter's footsteps as he shuffles towards the desk and after another moment he speaks. "What did you say? I don't speak stupid, sorry."

I can't help it, I laugh at that. "I knew you would throw that back in my face one day." Lifting my head I look up at him through the messy fringe of my hair to find that he's grinning at me like a Cheshire cat. It makes something in my stomach twist and I can feel a blush start to rise on the back of my neck, but I fight it back down. "I said I'm sorry, just so you know."

Potter blinks at me. "Sorry for what?"

"For breaking your nose…and everything else."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

He looks like he's going to laugh, maybe because he thinks I'm not being serious or maybe because it's rather hilarious that Draco Malfoy is apologizing, I don't know. He doesn't though; instead he only nods his head as if making a decision before he takes a step back and holds out his hand to me. I take a moment to stare at it, not really knowing what to do because I really didn't think that it would be this easy to gain Potter as a friend after everything we've been through. After a moment though I slowly raise my hand and clasp it with his.

"Why?" I find myself asking as we hold hands.

Potter shrugs his shoulders before slowly pulling his hand back to himself. "Life is too short to keep stupid grudges. Besides…for the last three years I thought you were dead, might as well start over right?"

I blink at him and then smile. "I like that idea…starting over."

"I do have intelligent thoughts every now and then." Potter grins as he shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels.

I find myself grinning back and it feels strange to be smiling _with_ Potter and not _at_ him, but it also feels right at the same time. We may have our differences and we will probably never see eye to eye on certain things, but I have the sudden feeling that we could be good friends one day. It isn't something that I would have ever thought possible, and maybe it's only possible now because I've been gone for three years and have become someone different and new. Maybe everything that I've gone through happened for a reason; if I had ever been exiled I would have never met Rita and Sam, who have become my second family, and I would never have had this second chance at a friendship I've always seemed to crave.

"So…" Potter glances down at his feet before looking back up at me. "Does this make us friends?"

I tilt my head to the side and consider this before replying. "No…" Potters face falls and I hold back a laugh. "I think what we have is a truce, for now anyways."

He brightens up a little at this and I have to wonder if maybe he's been craving a friendship as long as I have. "I'll take that."

I smile again before I suddenly yawn, which makes Potter chuckle. "Sod off." I say but there's no malice in it at all which only causes Potter to laugh at me. I try to scowl at him but it falls short because Potter really does have a nice laugh. "You know…you could bring me some coffee if you really want us to be friends."

Potter raises an eyebrow at me. "I thought what we have right now is a truce Malfoy. I don't think that means I have to do anything for you."

His voice is teasing and I narrow my eyes at him before whining. "You're cruel."

He laughs. "Maybe you shouldn't have fallen asleep on the floor. You wouldn't need coffee if you had let yourself get a decent sleep."

My eyes go wide when he says this and I sputter. "H-how did you know that?"

Potter flashes a knowing grin and taps the side of his nose. "Transparency charm."

Feeling quite embarrassed now I let my head fall back down on the desk with another thunk. "Should have known."

"Yeah you should have." Potter replies with a chuckle.


	4. Chapter 4

Flawed Design:

Cautious Friendship

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from the Harry Potter universe, sad but true story.

Thank you to those people that have marked this fan fiction as a favourite and are following it, I hope you're all enjoying it so far. This has been a brain child of mine for a while now and it is going to be a long one. I promise to keep it updated at least once a week (fingers crossed).

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Later that day I met Potter at a coffee shop down the street from the motel; something that we had agreed to when we spoke in the morning. We had both decided that if we wanted to try being friends or something as close to that as we could manage, we should meet somewhere neutral. That way neither one of us would be able to make a scene should this idea go horribly wrong.

Potter is already sitting at a table next to the window where there are comfortable overstuffed chairs and when I join him he looks up at me with a small smile. For the second time that day I find that my stomach gives a little twist and once again I ignore it.

"Potter." I nod to him in greeting as I sit down and catch the eye of a waitress walking by. I order a plain black coffee and find myself at the end of a questioning eyebrow raise from the dark haired wizard in front of me. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing…" He smirks at me and shakes his head. "I just thought that the great Draco Malfoy would like fancy coffee."

It's my turn to smirk at him as I lean back in the chair and fold my arms across my chest. "There are a lot of things about me that would surprise you Potter, my taste in coffee being the least of them."

Across from me Potter grimaces. "If we're going to try this friendship thing can you please quit calling me Potter? Every time you say it I feel like I should be getting in trouble."

The question catches me off guard and for a moment I just stare at him; I've never called him by his first name before and I know it's going to feel strange to say it. "Alright…Harry." It definitely sounds strange on my tongue but Potters face brightens when I say it so I guess it doesn't sound bad to him.

"You don't mind if I call you Draco do you?" He asks with a slight blush to his cheeks I notice.

_Interesting_, I think to myself as he watches me for my reaction. "It would make sense I guess for you to call me by my first name if I'm to call you by yours."

"You still talk like an aristocrat."

I freeze at the words and suddenly I very much want to leave though I don't know why. I don't like the reference to my past I guess, least of all from Potter. He must have caught the look on my face though because he ducks his head down and mutters an apology at the same time the waitress comes over and sets my coffee down on the table between us. We sit in silence for a few minutes, both of us enjoying our drinks before either one of us speaks again.

"So what have you been up to for the last three years?" Potter asks.

"Didn't I already tell you?" I counter back at him, unsure of why I'm being defensive; maybe it's because that's always how I've dealt with Potter. It's a habit I know I'll have to break.

Potter shakes his head. "No, you only told me that you were exiled after the Ministry came to the Manor." He wants to say more about what I told him that first night but I can tell that he's holding it back.

"Well every part of what I said was true." I reply, deciding that what happened to me will be brought up whether I want it to be or not so I might as well talk about it. "Ever since they shoved that portkey at me I've been living here in Boston."

"Were you always at the motel with Rita and Sam?"

I shake my head and cradle my coffee in my hands. "No. I used to live on the streets before I met them." I laugh bitterly to myself and watch out of the corner of my eyes when Potter leans in towards me; a silent confirmation for me to continue. "For the first few months I tried everything I could to get back home but I couldn't. I didn't have any magic anymore so trying to go through any portkey hub would have been impossible. They would have just obliviated me for being somewhere that a muggle shouldn't be and I would rather keep my memories thank you very much." I take a sip of my coffee before I add. "I couldn't go to the muggle airports either since I had no passport and no money. I didn't even register in their computer system as a person. My birth records are all in my family vault and of course there's no record of my birth in the muggle world."

Potter leans back in his chair with a small frown on his face. "Are you a citizen now? I mean…did you manage to get records of everything?"

I nod. "After I met Rita and she found out that I didn't have any paperwork she got everything together for me. I still don't know how she managed it all…personally I think she has some friends in low places if you know what I mean. There isn't any other way that she could have done it all."

Nodding to himself Potter takes a long drink from his coffee before answering. "You're lucky to have her."

"I know. If it wasn't for her I might still be on the streets with nothing to my name…what's left of my name anyways." I tuck a leg up underneath me and lean against the armrest of the chair. "What about you? What have you been doing for the last three years? I was serious when I thought that you and the girl Weasley would be married with children by now."

Once again Potter grimaces. "Ginny and I…we never really got back together after the War. She wanted me to be someone that I didn't want to be; wanted me to keep being the hero and all that came with it. I just wanted to be left alone. I spent nearly seven years fighting for my life and everyone else's and I just didn't have it in my anymore." He pauses to sigh and push the hair from his eyes. "Everyone wanted me to be the bloody saviour still and no one asked me what I wanted to be. Ron thought that I should go into Auror training with him and got pissed off when I told him I didn't want to do that anymore. Hermione thought it would be a good idea for me to get into the political side of things…" He snorts and I find myself smirking at the thought as well. "Ginny wanted me to be a husband and father even though we were both so young…"

I raise an eyebrow at him when he trails off and gently prod his foot with my own. "What did _you_ want to do after the War?"

Potter looks up at me and gives me a lopsided grin. "I wanted to hide to be honest. I wanted to be somewhere that no one knew who I was. I didn't want the limelight since I never asked for it to begin with."

"You know…I always use to think that you liked being the center of attention." I say with a sigh and slight smile. "I use to hate the fact that everyone fawned over you and ignored me."

"I would have given it all to you if I could." Potter replies solemnly and I know that he's telling the truth.

We're both silent for another few minutes; both lost in thoughts and memories from our childhood. As far as I was concerned we both had shitty childhoods and grew up far to fast for it to be healthy. Potter had the weight of the Wizarding world on his shoulders and I had a pissy Dark Lord breathing down my neck and threatening to kill my family. Absently I wonder what life would have been like for both of us of we were not born who we were; if we both had been born just regular wizards with no titles at all, or muggles even.

"How do you manage everything here?" Potter asks after a while. "Rita was telling me that you're studying plus working at the motel almost every day."

"It isn't as much as she makes it out to be." I lie as I stare out the window, watching the people as they walk past.

"Do you miss it?"

I pause and look over at Potter. "Miss what?"

"Magic...the fact that you were a wizard." Potter replies.

My stomach tightens at the words and I fix Potter with a hard stare. "Of course I miss it. I hate the fact that my birthright was stolen from me and that the people responsible will never be punished. I hate the fact that I didn't even get the chance to grieve for my mother because I was too busy trying to stay alive and I hate the fact that my father is in prison even though he deserves it." I take a shaking breath and force myself to calm down; knowing deep inside that Potter didn't mean anything harmful by his question. "You have no idea how much I wanted to go home, how much I wanted to see everyone I knew…even my enemies, because that would mean at least I would have something familiar."

Potter purses his lips in a thin line and looks away before locking his eyes with mine again. "What if you could go back?"

"What do you mean? I can't go back I already told you that."

"I know…but now you have me. I can get a portkey and give it to you so that you can go home."

I shake my head at the suggestion. "No. If I go back I'll end up in prison. Besides…I have no place there now. No magic means no magical world to belong to."

Potter frowns at that. "I don't believe that you have no magic left. How is it even possible to take someone's magic from them? I've never heard of that happening before."

"I think it's something that the Ministry keeps hidden." I reply as I put my now empty coffee cup on the table and cross my arms again. "It hurt more than you can ever imagine Harry. Every fibre of your being feels like it's on fire and all you want to do is scream until your throat is raw but you can't. You know what the cruciatus curse feels like don't you?" When Potter shutters and nods I let out a slow breath. "It feels kind of like that…only afterwards you're left with a hole inside you that you know is never going to heal."

"Shit Draco…" Potter's voice trails off almost instantly after he's spoken and it's a short while again before he speaks once more. "I'm sorry."

"For what? You didn't do this to me." I shake my head and clear my thoughts of the past. "What happened has happened and there's nothing either you or I can do about it now." Potter only half shrugs and nods in agreement and I sigh. "Being a muggle isn't all bad you know."

Potter grins at that. "Never would have pictured you saying that."

I shrug my shoulders and give a small laugh. "It isn't bad but it isn't easy either. When I first came here I thought that if I could just find a way to spark my magic to come back to me then I would be able to survive. I didn't think it was possible to live without magic…but then when I realized I couldn't get my magic back I started watching the people around me. I watched what they did and copied them and I think that's the only reason I stayed alive." I pause and laugh a little to myself. "That plus I became quite the pick-pocket."

Potter's eyes get a little wider and he eyes me with disbelief. "You stole things?"

"I only stole what was necessary to keep me alive. A wallet here a scarf there…I never stole anything big or that people really needed. Mostly I targeted rich people that had extra."

"So you're a modern day Robin Hood except for the fact that you kept the riches for yourself."

I frown at the comparison but in the end I nod my head. "You could say so." Potter smiles at that and that strange twist in my gut happens again but this time I don't try to ignore it; it feels kind of nice actually, though completely foreign at the same time. Potters eyes are very green as he watches me and I suddenly frown at him. "When did you get rid of those horrible glasses?"

Lifting a hand to his face like he himself just noticed that he wasn't wearing the old round frames, Potter shrugs. "It's part of my witness protection program for myself. I didn't like them…never did to be honest. I always wanted to get them fixed but all of the medi wizards that I went to see after the war said magic couldn't fix them. I went to a specialist in France and had them done a few years ago."

"You look better without them." I find myself complementing Potter and feel a slight flush on the back of my neck when I realize that's what it was.

Potter grins at me. "Thanks."

We sit there for a few more minutes before the waitress comes over to ask us if we would like another coffee; neither Potter nor I do so we pay for the coffee we've had before leaving the small café. Potter walks beside me and I have to slow my steps down to match his because he is so much shorter than I am; something I never really noticed before when we were teenagers (not that we're much older now). Potter has a slight swing to his step he when he walks, almost like a bounce and it makes me grin for some reason.

"Why are you so small?" I suddenly ask when we stop at a red light.

Potter looks up at me from under the fringe of his hair, green eyes flashing. "Poor nutrition makes people smaller than they really should be."

The way he says it leaves no room for questions but if he thinks that I'm going to let that comment go he's got another thing coming. I want to know what he meant by it but I can wait until he wants to tell me…or at least until I'm fed up with not knowing. In response to his comment I merely shrug and keep walking once the light has changed to green; and suddenly everything seems to happen in slow motion. The small crowd of people start to cross the street at the same time a delivery truck is coming down the street and it looks like it isn't going to stop. People who drive in Boston are sometimes known for not caring about street lights or signs and today it looks like it isn't going to be any different. Since I see the truck coming I don't step out into the street and the people around us that were going to cross stop and back up onto the sidewalk…everyone but Potter. He is looking down at his feet and obviously lost in thought and I have a split second before he gets run over so I reach out my hand, grab the back of his shirt and pull him roughly backwards. The protest dies on his lips when the truck soars past and he trembles slightly against my chest where I'm now holding him, both my arms wrapped around his petite frame.

I can feel his heart pounding underneath my fingers and I know he can feel mine pounding against his back as we stand there, unable to move or speak, even as everyone else around us carries on; as if the near hit didn't just happen in front of their eyes. Potter leans his head back against my shoulder and I suddenly want to bury my face against the crook of his shoulder and just stand there, but I don't. Instead I pull my arms away slowly, letting them linger for a moment on his hips before stepping back a few feet and running a hand through my hair. Slowly he turns and looks up at me and I can see the lingering fear at what happened and a slight questioning look as well.

"So…first rule about crossing the street is to look both ways." I try to joke because I'm not sure what else to say.

Potter blushes and frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know that Malfoy."

"I thought I was Draco now." I tease as I step closer to him, slowly so he doesn't step back into the street again.

"Draco…" Potter sounds like he was going to scold me but stops when I get about a foot away from him.

Without knowing what I'm doing I lift a hand and place it against his cheek, my thumb gently moving slowly over his skin. "Don't scare me like that again alright?" Potter has frozen to the spot when I touch him but I notice that he leans slightly into my hand and it brings back that twist to my gut. "You're one of the few friends that I have and I don't really want you to be turned into a pancake. You'd be pretty hard to scrap off of the street."

That seems to break the tension a little bit and we both laugh slightly; probably from the shock of what happened and from what I said.

"Thanks for saving me." Potter says after a moment. "Your reflexes still seem to work."

"It's a good thing that they do or that truck would be wearing you." I reply with a slight grimace.

Potter only nods and looks down at his feet before looking back up at me once more. "So now what?"

"I have to study so we should probably get back to the motel." I reply and I see his face fall a little which makes me frown. "If you want you can hang out with me though I warn you I'm not going to be talking all that much." I don't know why I offer this but when Potters eyes light up a little the way they do when he's happy about something I know I've said the right thing.

"I could just read while you study." Potter says. "I won't get in your way, I promise."

I nod my head and smile a little before gesturing for him towards the direction of the motel. This time he looks both ways before we cross the street though I can't help but notice that as we walk his hand is brushing against mine and that twisted feeling inside me has evolved into something warm and comfortable.

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The next few weeks pass by in a blur because I have to spend most of my time studying for tests and while I'm not doing that I'm working the front desk or doing odd jobs around the motel. By the end of the day I'm so exhausted that I fall asleep before my head hits the pillow it seems and I wake up usually as cranky as ever. Rita takes it all in stride, Sam just gives me random hugs and Harry brings me coffee; I've started to call him Harry in my head because it just seems a bit strange to me to call your friend by his first name verbally and by his last name mentally. Rita has even extended the invite of having dinner with the three of us while he's here and I have to admit that having him there is nice. He's decided to extend his stay in Boston for the time being and sometimes helps around the motel; even though Rita has told him countless times that he doesn't need to. I know why he's doing it though; Harry has never really been one to sit around and do nothing when he could be helping, it's just the way that he is, something I've learned over the last ten years of knowing him.

My cautious friendship with Harry is strange to say the least but it's a good sort of strange; I had thought at first that it would be awkward considering our past and everything that we had done to each other, but after a few hours worth of talking and getting everything off of our chests we now stand on the same ground. We both want to forget about all of the shite we put each other through and start fresh; I would forget that Harry rejected me and almost killed me, and he would forget that I was a spoiled brat that tried to destroy our home. Personally I think that I got the better part of the truce because how easy is it to forgive and forget something as huge as trying to help a madman take over the world? Even if it wasn't by choice it still happened, though Harry says that none of it was really my fault, I was just trying to keep my own family safe.

The night that we went through everything there was a point where we did have to take a break from talking though, because if we didn't one of us would be dead. I believe it says something that we didn't kill one another and ended up reaching an understanding. We didn't even need anyone to break us up or send us to different rooms; something we are both quite proud of and had a good laugh over later on.

"So I've decided that we need to celebrate the fact that you're done all of your tests for this term."

The voice breaks me from my train of thought and I look up from my sketchbook to see Harry walking towards me from the hallway, and I can't help but notice the fact that the warm feeling in my stomach only kicks in when I see him. I don't really know what it means as of yet and I don't really take any time out of my day to think about it; it just happens and I don't question it. I watch as Harry jumps up onto the desk and leans over to look at my latest drawing; the view from my old room at the Manor, something that I will never forget and draw often when I'm feeling homesick.

"What type of celebration are we talking about? I don't drink and I don't dance, so if those two are any part of your thought process you can just forget it." I reply as he leans back again and folds his hands in his lap.

Harry laughs and I like the sound of it. "Even if you did drink or dance I wouldn't suggest that because I hate and can't do either one of them. My tolerance for liquor is next to none and you've seen my attempts at dancing."

I nod solemnly though I'm trying not to grin. "That was quite painful to watch I must admit."

Harry responds by blushing and swatting at me, but then sobers up. "I was thinking we could take a small trip, just the two of us. I was looking at maps of the area and Somerville looks really nice."

Leaning back in my chair I watch as he starts to fidget and wonder why he's so nervous about asking me; and I know he's nervous because I've spent years watching him, not that I would ever admit that to him. "What is there to do in Somerville? How would we get there anyways? I can't drive and I know you can't either."

"I thought we could take a bus. It wouldn't take that long to get there, maybe an hour or so. We could go for a weekend; you know, leave Friday and come back on Monday. I bet Rita wouldn't have a problem with you taking a few days off." Harry talks in an excited voice and I can tell that he's thought quite a bit about this.

"You sound like you've already talked to Rita about this." I say with a raise eyebrow and a suspicious tone, which makes Harry turn red and fidget even more.

"Yeah I did…I hope you don't mind." Harry won't look me in the eye and he starts to chew on his lower lip. "She said that it was okay with her since you've been working your arse off for the last couple weeks." He looks at me now and he has almost an accusatory look to his eyes. "You never take any time off Draco and it's not goof for you, even Rita and Sam agree with me. You need to get away and have some fun once and a while."

I have to laugh at that, but not because I think he's wrong. "Rita told you to say all of this did she? She's always harping on me to take a break but she doesn't know that I can't. I have to get this diploma thing so I can actually have a life here Harry. I'm lucky as hell that she took me in and have me a job even though technically I shouldn't have even been working." I pause to reach out and slap at Harry's hands that are worrying at the hem of his shirt. "You're going to rip that, stop it."

"Yes mother dearest." Harry rolls his eyes but stops tugging at his shirt and rests his hands in his lap again. "You know I'm right though, so what do you say? We could go this weekend if you want."

I think about it for a minute; thinking about the fact that I still have quite a bit of chores to do around the motel and I want to wait for my test scores to come in, plus the fact that I would be spending a whole weekend away with Harry alone. I'm sure that we would be okay and that we won't kill one another, but I'm suddenly nervous at the prospect of it.

"I still have things to do around here." Now it's my turn to start fidgeting as I tap my pencil against my sketchbook. "Rita wanted me to finish painting the lobby and hallways, and I still have to wait to get my test scores in on Thursday."

Harry waves his hand like he's trying to bat my excuses away from him. "I'll help you do the painting so that shouldn't take too long, and as far as your test scores are concerned, you just said so yourself that you're getting them on Thursday which means everything will be done before we leave on Friday."

"You always have an argument for everything don't you?" I ask with a sigh, though it's half hearted at best. "You should have been in Slytherin." Harry suddenly laughs at this which makes me frown at him and cross my arms defensively over my chest. "What's so funny then?"

Harry is still chuckling as he says. "I was almost put there to be honest. The only reason I wasn't was because I begged the hat not to put me there."

This shocks me into just sitting there and staring at him, any sort of retort dying on my lips, and it's a good few minutes of me sitting like that with Harry grinning at me before I speak again. "You were almost in my house? How is it that I never knew this?"

"It wasn't common knowledge since I didn't want anyone to know." Harry shrugs then nudges me with his foot. "So what do you say anyways? About the weekend now that all of your excuses are null and void?"

"Null and void? You sound like me." I reply.

"Well I have been spending a lot of time with you Draco. It was bound to rub off on me sooner or later."

I snort at this and purse my lips before I nod. "Alright then…you help me finish the painting and we have a deal." I eye him carefully as I stick out my hand, pulling it back just before he takes it to add. "You have to supply me with coffee though."

Harry laughs and grabs my hand. "I've been bringing you coffee for two weeks now Draco, I'm sure I can handle another few days of it."

"Cheeky bastard."

"Cheeky bastard that brings you coffee to stop your horrible mood swings when you don't have any." Harry corrects me with a smirk.

I pull my hand back and swat at him. "I hate you, you know that right?"

Harry hopes off the desk and before I know it he's leant in and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before he's walking away and calling over his shoulder. "No you don't and you know it Draco, see you at dinner."

He disappears around the corner moments later and all I can do at that point is sit there with my mouth hanging open and a blush on my face, which I'm sure is quite red, with my heart pounding loudly in my ears.


	5. Chapter 5

Flawed Design:

Busy doing nothing

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything from the Harry Potter universe

Sorry that this chapter has taken so long to post, I hope that it's worth it. Thank you again to all of those who are following, setting this story as a favourite and leaving reviews. This story was fully inspired by the song 'Flawed Design' by Stabilo, a great song and if you've never heard it I suggest that you do

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"So you mean to tell me that you've never painted before?" It's a question I direct to Harry as we stand in the lobby; a paint tray, rollers and paint brushes in hand.

The dark haired wizard looks at me and blinks before shrugging his shoulders. "I never had a chance to…it isn't like I ever needed to paint a room before Draco. I've been living out of a rucksack for the last two and a half years."

I take a long breath and shake my head. "Well you're going to learn today that's for sure." I consider the paintbrush that he holds in his hand then to the roller I have in mine before I click my tongue and swap our tools. "You had better do the rolling."

Harry frowns at me before staring at the roller in his hand. "Why? Are you afraid that I'll screw up with the brush?"

His voice is challenging and for a moment I want to ruffle his hair because he sounds so put out at having the brush taken away from him. "I don't think you'll screw it up…you've proven in the past that you can do anything you want, especially if someone tells you that you can't do it." I frown at my own words and add as an afterthought. "That always pissed me off to no end you know. I hated the fact that you were always so good at everything you tried."

It's Harry's turn to frown now and he shakes his head at me. "I was never good at potions though; that you have me beat in. I think the only person that was worse at potions than me was Neville and that makes me incredibly depressed when I think about it."

I have to laugh at this because I know that it's true. "You were terrible at it I'll agree with that, but there was sixth year when you out did everyone, myself included." I eye him with a calculating look and add. "How did you manage that by the way?"

"You mean I never told you?" Harry asks with a small smile on his lips as he looks up at me, idly twirling the paint roller in his hand.

I wait for a few moments for him to continue but when no other words come out of his mouth I sigh and swat him on shoulder; a gesture that feels natural between friends yet gives me a slight feeling of a twist in my stomach. "Are you actually going to tell me how you pulled it off then, or are you just going to leave me hanging?" I finally ask after crossing my arms in reaction to his chuckle.

"What will you give me if I tell you how I bested the great Draco Malfoy at his favourite subject?" Harry replies with a tilt to his head and a sly grin on his lips.

I can't help but notice that he has focused his eyes on my lips and I find that I blush even though I try hard not to. The kiss that he gave me the other day hasn't been brought up or even hinted at, even though it was just a chaste one to the cheek. After a moment I clear my throat and set my chin upwards in challenge. "If you tell me how you did it I'll give you my respect, how does that sound?"

Harry laughs instantly, his head tilting back and his eyes closing. "Your respect? You honestly can't think of anything better than that?"

I grit my teeth together and narrow my eyes at him for that comment. "What _could_ be better than that?" The remark sounds pathetic and childish and too much like the old me, even to my ears, but I don't care at the moment.

Harry seems to think about this for a minute before he shrugs and makes a non-committal sound. "I'm your friend now so doesn't that mean I have your respect already?" He asks and grins when I give him a frustrated look. "I think that I'll cash in my reward for telling you when you least expect it, and you _can't_ refuse me. Deal?"

"I'm not agreeing to that if you're only going to tell me_ one_ thing. If you want me to agree you're going to have to tell me more than how you got so good at potions."

"Fair enough. What else do you want to know?"

I think about this for a moment before I say. "I want to know what the one thing Harry Potter is afraid of, and I don't mean the obvious things like death or torture or dementors because I know all of that. Anyone in their right mind would be afraid of those things."

Harry's face seems to fall for only a split second before he's grinning again and sticking out his hand towards me. "Sounds easy enough, you have a deal."

Grinning myself I take his hand and shake it once. "Now tell me how you did it."

"A book."

"…A book?"

"Yes."

"Every one of us used a book Harry, that doesn't explain anything!"

"A special book?" Harry phrases it like a question though he's got a mischievous look to his eyes.

"If you're not going to tell me then I reclaim the deal." I turn my back to him and pick up the can of paint at my feet before stepping up onto the small stool by the wall.

"Oh for…" Harry swears under his breath before spouting. "I used an old potions book that belonged to Severus Snape. He wrote notes in the margin that told you how to do something better and faster then what the original text had written. I didn't know the book was _his_ and didn't think that there would be any harm in using the notes since they seemed to help a lot. Hermione told me to get rid of it but I didn't listen…I enjoyed the fact that I was better at potions with it since I was always rubbish at it."

Halfway through Harry's little rant I've turned around to gape at him and once he's finished I stare at him for a moment before I speak. "You _cheated_?" He nods at this. "The great golden boy himself _cheated_ to get ahead?" I ask again and once again Harry nods, though now he's blushing.

Casting his eyes to the floor Harry speaks in a low voice. "You make it sound like I committed a grave sin." He looks back up at me, brushing the fringe of his hair from his eyes. "It wasn't like I was hurting anyone; I was just trying to get a good score for my N.E.W.T.S."

A memory from sixth year hits me like a train; the Room of Requirement, repairing the vanishing cabinet, the Deatheaters slipping out into the school unchecked and uncontested, Dumbledore falling after Severus killed him. I take a sharp breath as my body tenses and though I know that Harry didn't mean anything by his words I suddenly feel angry. My body goes rigid as my jaw clenches, but before I can say anything Harry picks up on my mood and speaks in a soft tone, reaching out his hand towards him.

"Draco…I didn't mean anything by that…I didn't mean for it to sound like that."

As he speaks he touches his hand to my arm and his touch is warm against my skin though I still flinch at the contact. "Don't touch me." My voice is more harsh then I intend it to be and I see the flash of hurt in Harry's eyes just before he pulls his hand away from me and takes a step back. Instantly I feel bad for having snapped at him and I force myself to relax and take a deep breath. "Sorry."

Harry only nods once in acceptance before he puts on a fake smile, the one I know all too well from school. "No worries." Even though his tone is light I know that I've made a mistake in telling him not to touch me. "So why is it that I have to do the rolling again? You never told me why I'm getting stuck doing to hardest part."

"Because you're too short to reach the top with the brush…" I eye him with a small smirk when he glares at me. "…even with the stool."

"You're such a prat you know that right?" He says with a tilt of his chin.

I can't help it as I reach my hand out and ruffle his hair. "Has anyone ever told you that you're awful cute when you get upset Harry?"

Unlike me Harry doesn't tell me to stop touching him as my hand still remains on top of his head; instead he almost leans into my hand and just shakes his head and repeats himself. "Prat."

0-0-0-0-0

We stop painting almost four hours later when we can't concentrate any longer and our stomachs are protesting at being empty for far too long. Harry is sprawled out on the tarp covered carpet in the hallway, uncaring that he more than likely lying in puddles of wet paint, while I'm sitting crossed legged next to him picking dried paint from under my nails. I notice that there doesn't seem to be an inch of him that isn't covered in paint splatters; but that might have been because of the small paint war we had, which he started. He didn't have to dab me in the back with the paint roller…though maybe I didn't have to retaliate with a paint brush quite so forcefully. It was a duel with paint and it was a lot more fun considering there wasn't any danger of hurting one another like years before. The thought reminds me of how Harry struggled against having half his face painted beige; apparently when wands are not being used he is pretty much useless to physically fight me since I'm a lot bigger than he is. Something I pointed out quite readily to him and got a paint filed roller to the chest for.

Grinning, I absently wonder how much paint we actually got on the walls and not on ourselves since our little paint war, and come to the conclusion that we're both probably wearing more paint then that last three feet of hallway does at the moment.

"What are you grinning for?"

I look down at the boy by my feet and raise an eyebrow at him. "You look ridiculous like that."

"You're the one that attacked me with a paint brush."

"You started it."

"You were asking for it."

"How was I asking for it? By painting the wall like I'm supposed to? Or did I offend the wall somehow?"

"You offend a lot of things." Harry replies as he scratches at his face where the paint had been; after our war I let him go and wash it off before it welded to his cheek.

I snort at this and shove at him with my hand. "You're just upset that I made you do the rolling…it isn't my fault that you're shorter than me." I pause for a moment and nudge at him again with my hand. "Tell me something…is it hard to find a date that's shorter than you are?"

Harry glares at me though it's half hearted at best. "I don't know…is it hard to get a date when you're head is so big with how wonderful you think you are?"

"Jealous Potter?"

"Did you just ask me if I was jealous of your swollen head of wonder?" Harry asks with an amused voice.

For a moment I don't know what to say to that and I just sit there and blink slowly a few times before I find that I'm laughing softly, though it's getting louder, especially when Harry starts to join in. Soon both of us are laughing so hard that we don't hear the footsteps coming towards us until Rita is standing right in front of us with a confused expression on her face.

"What got you two so worked up?"

I look up at her and I'm still laughing when I sputter out. "Harry's jealous because he's short." As I point at the boy in question.

Harry swats at my hand as he sits up and grins towards Rita. "Draco has a big head because he's so wonderful."

We both look at one another when he says this and both start laughing again, falling against each other, shoulder to shoulder. It's one of those moments that you don't really know why what you're laughing at is so funny but it is, and you can't really stop yourself; it just feels too good to laugh.

Rita simply shakes her head, but I hear an amused chuckle escape her lips before she speaks. "I'm going to guess this is something I'm not going to understand." She pauses to take a look around the hallway before looking back down at us once more. "You've done a good job so far."

"Thank you." Harry replies as he wipes the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's the first time I've ever done it so I'm glad we didn't mess it up."

I mirror his actions and lean back on my hands to look up at my foster mother. "Plus we don't cost as much as hiring a painting company to come in and do this right? We don't charge a thing except for food."

"That's why I came down here." Rita replies. "I made lunch and it's waiting in the kitchen for you."

I don't know what she was expecting as a reaction, but I don't think she expected both Harry and I to scramble up from the floor and take off down the hallway so fast, alternately laughing and playfully shoving at each other as we ran. I can honestly say that I've never ran for food before, not even as a child, but it felt good to do it; especially when I was beating Harry down the hallway. Later he would say I only won because I had longer legs, to which I would reply that I was right all along about his petite stature being his downfall.

0-0-0-0-0

After lunch and a quick shower I'm stuck at the front desk while Rita steps out to do some errands and Harry has left to go to an appointment he won't tell me about. Only a few people have come through the doors to check into rooms so I have little to do besides open a book and read while I listen to my music, and I suddenly wish that Harry were here to keep me company. Over the past few weeks he sometimes will pull up a chair and sit at the desk with me; we'll play cards or talk, or just sit there quietly. The silence never bothers me because it's the company I like more than anything else really. Sometimes Sam will join me at the desk but she never stays long, and when she is there she always has to talk, usually until I tell her to be quiet. That's probably why I enjoy Harry's company more and more over Sam's.

Sighing I pull my headphones from my ears and hang them around my neck, stretching my arms above my head before rubbing my face roughly, trying to fight of a sudden wave of fatigue.

"You like him don't you?"

Startled, I look up at the sound of Sam's voice as she pops herself up onto the front desk. She's got a mischievous look to her eyes and I instantly become suspicious. "What are you on about?"

Sam pretends to examine her nails before she speaks and I have to try not to swat at her for taking so long to answer. "Harry of course…who else would I be talking about?" She looks up at me and smiles innocently. "You like him don't you?"

I can feel that familiar flush creeping up the back of my neck, but I will it away. "Of course I do, he's my friend. Normally friends like each other…that's why people stay friends."

Sam snorts and crosses her arms as she looks at me. "I see the way you look at him and that isn't how friends normally look at each other. You get all pink and you just _stare_ at him…like you can't stop or something. I'm surprised that he doesn't call you out on it. I mean, if I were him I would have noticed a long time ago and said something."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I reply as I sit back and cross my own arms over my chest. "Harry is just a friend."

"You're denial astounds me Draco." Sam sighs then turns her attention to the front door as it opens and an elderly couple walks in. Thankfully she doesn't say anything while I check them into a room and give them their key, but as soon as they're gone she turns to me and pokes me in the chest, hard. "You don't fool me you know. I've been around you almost contently for two years now so I think I know a lot about you…and right now I say that you have a thing for Harry." She pauses like she's come to some great conclusion before she laughs suddenly. "That's why you wouldn't go out with me right? And why you said that he wasn't my type? Because you're both gay right? I mean…it makes sense to me now! You've always turned down every girl that comes onto you and I've never seen you go on a date…and Harry…well anyone could tell that he bats for the other team from a mile away."

Through her whole rant I just sit there and I can feel my mouth hanging open wider with every word she says. _She thinks I'm gay!?_ Is my first thought followed by _She thinks Harry's gay…and that I fancy him?_

"I am not gay."

Sam waves a hand at me, dismissing my words. "You don't have to deny it anymore Draco, I mean _look_ at you!" She gestures to me and giggles; at me or at her own 'cleverness' I don't know nor care. "You have way more fashion sense then most women and you take way better care of yourself then most people in general."

"Just because I happen to dress better than the average slob of a man doesn't mean that I'm gay…and since when did wearing jeans that don't have rips in them or a nice shirt mean gay anyways?" I ask with a frown.

"Okay…you have a point on that one, but _still_!" Sam spreads her arms to the side as she looks at me. "Why haven't you ever gone on any dates? I've known you for two years now and you've never had a girlfriend! If you're not gay then you must be a monk!"

"I don't want to date anyone right now." I reply and hold my hand out to halt her before she says anything else. "I'm not interested in the vapid girls who try and get my attention. If I date someone they need to at least be intelligent and know how to hold a conversation."

"Harry's intelligent and you talk with him for hours."

"He's not that intelligent and we've known each other since we were eleven."

Sam lets out a frustrated breath and leans back, dropping her hands into her lap. "He likes you…as more then just a friend."

Her voice is so low that I almost miss what she says, almost. "What do you mean?"

My foster sister rolls her eyes and hops off of the desk. "Haven't you noticed the way he looks at you? The way he always stands so close to you…finds a way to touch you? I may not be a genius about a lot of things but I do know that Harry likes you. He does a pretty shitty job of hiding it and you're blind if you haven't noticed it."

"Harry isn't harbouring a crush on me Sam." My voice sounds dull even to my ears because now she's got me thinking about the past three weeks that Harry's been staying at the Motel.

At first he stayed away from me; because I threatened him of course, but after I apologized to him he became a close friend faster than I thought would have been possible; he wasn't the same Harry I knew in school just as I wasn't the same Draco he knew either. Still, for the first week we would keep our distance from the other, unsure of what could be said or done, both not knowing what was acceptable. He was used to being able to touch; to hug or playfully push or even just sit close to his friends while I was used to having my personal space. After that first week though, Harry began to slowly get closer, like he couldn't help it or didn't know he was doing it. He would reach out to touch my hand or arm, or sit just a little bit closer to me at the dinner table. I didn't think anything of it at first because it was so slow in coming; it was like he was trying not to scare me away. Maybe that's why I hadn't really noticed it at first, because it was just small things here and there. Maybe Harry slowly acquainting me with physical touches was why I didn't think anything of the fact that we could playfully swat at one another or sling an arm around the others shoulders now. As I sit there and think about all of this I realize that Harry has changed me in such an unobtrusive way that I didn't even notice it until I actually sat back and thought about it.

None of the friends I had before tried to get close to me because I was so dead set against it, but Harry seems to have disregarded that idea all-together. If I had realized sooner that he was slipping past my defences I would have been mad, simply because he was ignoring an unspoken rule of mine, but now I find I don't mind that he did. It's comforting to have physical contact with someone really and it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. Of course I still shy away from everyone else's touch, even Rita and Sam at times, but today was the first time I can recall that I've told Harry not to touch me. It's probably the reason why he looked so upset though he tried to hide it. Maybe he craved the contact with me as much as I subconsciously craved it from him. The thought makes my stomach twist and my eyes go a little bit wider.

I look up at Sam as she stands over me and I know she sees some of the realization in my eyes, which is probably why I can't stop myself from saying the next few words. "He kissed me the other day."

Her eyes go almost comically wide at this and she sits back up on the desk. "He kissed you on the lips?"

I shake my head. "On the cheek…but…friends don't do that do they? I mean…girls do that to other girls and guys, but guys don't kiss one another when they're straight right?"

"Not often no…unless you live in France or something, then it's just a way to say hi." Sam answers back. "What did you do when he kissed you?"

"Nothing, he walked away right after that."

"Have you brought it up to him at all?"

I make a face at that and run a hand through my hair. "Why on Earth would I do that? What if he's embarrassed by it? What if he kicked himself for it afterwards and doesn't even want me to mention it?"

Sam smiles and tilts her head to the side. "You know, if you were straight you wouldn't be so worried about this."

I scowl at her and spin myself away from her to face the front door. "Sod off." On some level I know that she might have a point but that doesn't mean I have to let her know that. She would rub it in my face for the rest of my life.

Sam doesn't say anything to that but I listen as she jumps off the desk again and then I feel her arms wrapped around my shoulders before she speaks in my ear. "Just ask him if he likes you, okay? I promise it won't be the end of the world as we know it if you do."

I hesitate before I mutter a response. "I'll think about it." Of course I'm not going to do it but if I agree then she'll leave me alone, at least for a little while.

Sam gives me a squeeze before she lets me go. "I guess that's as good as I'm going to get from you."

"Pretty much." I reply as I put my headphones back over my ears; I've had enough of talking to her.

"I'll be back at nine to take over."

I don't say anything to her as I turn on my music and stare unseeing at the front door, trying unsuccessfully to not think about Harry Potter fancying me, or the slight possibility that Sam may be right about me fancying him in return.


	6. Chapter 6

FLAWED DESIGN:

Move Along

Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter universe, that credit goes to J.K Rowling and her brilliant mind.

Once again thank you to all those people that have enjoyed the story so far, you as readers are what inspires me to keep writing, that plus music. It forever drives me to write and keep on writing. Sorry that this chapter took so long to be completed, life has a way of messing around with schedules and brain power. I hope you enjoy it though!

0-0-0-0-0

"Are you almost ready yet?" Harry asks me for what seems like the fourth time in two minutes as he bounces on the balls of his feet, like he just wants to get up and run.

Rolling my eyes I send him a look that I hope is scathing but it seems to have little to no effect on the small ebony haired teenager. Harry just grins at me and runs a hand through his hair before he grins and looks away. It seems that I don't even need to say anything for him to get the point this time that his pestering is not going to make me move any faster than I am. After being around one another for the better part of a decade as rivals and schoolmates, and now as tentative friends, I think Harry finally understands my looks.

"You know that the Red Line leaves in an hour right?"

I nod as I continue to slowly pack the bag sitting in the middle of my bed, but I still say nothing.

"Why are you bringing so much stuff anyways?" Harry asks after another minute, coming over from where he was sitting at my desk to plop himself on my bed, making the bag bounce.

I give him a stern look before resuming what I was doing and my silence seems to be getting to the other teen.

Harry huffs, pouting as he flops backwards on the bed, his hands covering his face to make his words muffled. "You're doing this on purpose aren't you?"

I smirk as he glares at me.

"Do you like tormenting me or something? You know I want to get to the station early." Harry whines as he thumps his hands against the bed.

I make a face at him and bat his hand away when he tries to close the bag on me, holding my finger up at him in warning.

Harry huffs again and pushes himself up on his elbows. "You are such a prat, you know that right?"

Again I smirk but this time I add a shrug in response to his comment.

"It's like I can say anything that I want right now and you aren't going to say anything to me. You're not going to get mad, or throw something I say back in my face…" He grins and raises an eyebrow in an eerily close resemblance to me when I smirk. "…I think I kind of like the idea of a mute Draco. He's much easier to deal with then the one that talks back."

I frown at him and reach over to swat the side of his head but he ducks out of the way.

"Don't hit, it's rude." Harry says as he leans over and looks into the small bag that I'm packing. "Why _are_ you bringing so much stuff anyways? What in the name of Merlin could you need two pairs of jeans for when we're only going to be gone for three days? Are you planning on getting dirty or something? And why are you bringing so many socks? You don't even like wearing socks."

Sighing deeply, I open my mouth to actually reply but Harry keeps on talking.

"You know, I think you may be trying to bring your whole closet with you. There's more clothes in here than I even own and I know that your closet isn't even empty yet. Why do you own so many clothes?" Gingerly he picks up a sweater and fingers the soft kitted fabric before I snatch it away and refold it back into the bag. "Touchy aren't you? I think you like your clothes more than you like me because if you liked me more than you would be done already and I wouldn't be sitting here waiting for you."

I pause with what I was doing and stare at him, his comment triggering the memory my conversation with Sam the day before where she all but said that it's obvious that Harry has a thing for me. Suddenly I find that I'm blushing so I scowl and cover it up with a sneer directed at Harry. I still haven't let myself think about what it could mean if he really does fancy me and I haven't in any way shape or form let myself think about whether or not I like him as more than a friend. I haven't let myself analyze the fact that he is one of the few people that I hold dear to me, and I certainly haven't let myself think about how that small kiss to the cheek left me blushing for almost an hour afterwards. Harry is one of the few friends that I have so of course I'm going to be fond of him, if I didn't then he wouldn't even be my friend. There's no way that I'm attracted to him romantically, even though I must admit that he has remarkably soft lips…

_Oh no…_ I think to myself, _you definitely haven't let yourself think about Harry at all!_ I mentally shake my head and glare at the other teen, who is now sitting crossed legged on my bed with my sweater back in his hands. I grab the shirt away from him and refold it yet again before putting it in my bag. I can still feel myself blushing and for the first time in my life I feel myself losing control over my trademark mask.

"You're blushing."

I scowl at the words but still say nothing.

"Is it because I said that you have too many clothes? Or is it because I said that I think you like your clothes more than you like me?" I must have flinched at his words because he suddenly sits a little straighter and grins knowingly at me. "It's because I said that you like your clothes more than me right? Because you really do like me and you're embarrassed by it! Awe Draco! You don't have to be shy about the fact that you like me!"

"Sod off." I finally reply back through clenched teeth.

"You like me! Draco Malfoy likes Harry Potter!"

I can feel my eye start to twitch and I close my eyes briefly and count to ten; which usually works when I'm trying not to kill anyone or say something that I will end up regretting, and for the moment it works. Instead of speaking I simply clench my jaw together and grit my teeth as I look at Harry, who is grinning at me like an idiot. An idiot with redden cheeks, bright eyes and pursed lips from trying not to laugh at my expense. For a moment I let my thoughts wander to the fact that while Harry is a complete twat for making fun of me, he is rather attractive when he blushes like that; it's something that he only does when he gets really embarrassed or nervous. It makes me wonder why he's either until a little voice inside my head, which sounds a lot like Sam to be honest, starts repeating the same three words.

_Harry fancies you…Harry fancies you…Harry fancies you…_

Once more I mentally shake my head and frown because I don't want to even start to analize that right now; not when Harry is looking up at me with wide innocent eyes from his spot on my bed. _My bed…Harry is on my bed and looking like he wants to be kissed and I'm just standing here frowning at him…_

"Do you have our tickets?" I ask as I inwardly cringe at the small tremor in my voice.

"They're in my bag…the bag that has been sitting on the floor for the past hour…the bag that has been packed and waiting to go for the past hour…the bag that only took me a few minutes to get together…" Harry raises an eyebrow at me as he speaks and I roll my eyes at him in response.

"For the second time Potter, _sod off_/" I hear the slight snarl in my voice and I instantly want to pull back the words, but it's too late. The look on Harry's face tells me that I've just said something hurtful and I kick my inner filter for not working. "Harry…I'm sorry."

Harry glares slightly at me as he gets up from the bed, walking over to his bag and picking it up. "Whatever Malfoy, what you say doesn't have that big of an effect on me." He walks to the door and looks back over his shoulder at me. "If you're done being a prat I'll meet you downstairs. You've got five minutes or I'm leaving without you." With those words he left the room, the fact the he didn't even slam the door speaking louder than the actual gesture could ever have.

"Bugger." I mutter to myself.

It takes me all of three minutes to get all of my things together before leaving my room, locking it, and running down to meet him. The fact that I'm running to Harry at his request is not lost on me but it isn't something that I want to think about right now; if I did I would find that it isn't something that really bothers me. He's just about to walk out the front door when I get to him and when he turns to look at me I halt in my steps, slowing down until I'm a few feet away from him.

"I'm sorry."

Harry just stares at me in response, his jaw set and an angry flare to his eyes.

Running a hand through my hair I look away for a moment before locking eyes with him once more. "I wasn't trying to be a prat you know…it's just that…I don't like leaving without making sure that I have everything."

Harry snorts at this. "For Merlin's sake Draco we're only going away for two days, three at the most…what can you possibly need to bring that would take that long to pack?"

As he speaks I can feel my face getting red, bit instead of getting defensive I decide to tell him the truth. "Ever since I was homeless and I didn't have much of anything…what I did have I kind of got into the habit of hoarding. I brought everything I had with me at all times. I didn't have anywhere to keep it that it wouldn't get taken." I take a deep breath and add with a sheepish tone. "Even after two years I still haven't outgrown the need to have everything with me."

Harry clearly wasn't expecting this as a reason for my taking so long, and he stares at me for a few good minutes before he shakes his head. "Why didn't you say something sooner? I wouldn't have bothered you so much about it if I had known."

"I was under the impression that you would think I was an idiot." I blurt out, my face getting more flushed by the minute.

Harry laughs at this but recovers himself before I can really get offended. "Draco…you _are_ an idiot…but not because of why you were packing so much but because you actually thought I would make fun of you. You're talking to the one person that would know what it's like not to have many things of your own and wanting to keep the things you do have close to you. There's no reason why you should think that I would have made fun of you."

For a moment I simply look at him with my mouth hanging open, in a fairly good imitation of a carp I'm sure. Harry meanwhile just grins at me before taking a step closer to me and putting his hand on my shoulder. "Are we done with the bromance moment? We do have a train that we're going to be late for if we don't get moving."

Frowning at him I tilt my head to the side and ask. "What the hell is a bromance?"

For an answer Harry throws back his head and laughs.

0-0-0-0-0

We make it to the Red Line with minutes to spare and within an hour we've checked into the Claddagh House Bed and Breakfast; a traditional style house close to the 'T' station with cozy rooms and a low rate. I could tell by looking at it that it seemed to be one of those places that couples stayed at while travelling: which for many reasons had me blushing when we went inside and asked for a single room.

The woman at the desk gave us both a small smile as she handed over the key to the room. "We have breakfast laid out between 8:00 and 9:00 in the dining room, after that you'll have to fend for yourselves. There are plenty of really good restaurants around here that you and your boyfriend might like though…I'd go to Burren, the food is great there, though I suppose since you boys are English you've been to too many pubs before so maybe try Dali. It's a good place too; my husband took me there for our anniversary, which I thought was going to be horrible, but it turned out to be really romantic…"

I blinked as the woman talked, glanced at Harry to find that he had a similar expression on his face, then turned back to the poor rambling woman. "He isn't my boyfriend."

The woman didn't seem to hear me. "…So what brings you to Somerville? Anything special?" Once again she sent a smile our way as she looked back and forth between Harry and me.

"Uhh…" Harry stammered, the tips of his ears going pink.

I tried not to grin at his discomfort and jumped in to save him from making a twat out of himself. "Actually we're just up for the weekend from Boston. Decided to do a little sight seeing."

The woman startled me when she clapped her hands together in what could only be described as pure joy. "Oh it's that lovely! You don't see many young couples taking the time to get away from hectic schedules anymore…which is a pure shame you know. How any relationship is supposed to thrive when you don't spend quality time with your partner is beyond me."

At her words I try not to roll my eyes and count to ten in my head, hoping that my little filter will not choose this moment to break down again. "It is a shame really…so I guess we'll just head on up to our room and get settled so we can spend some of that quality time with each other."

Harry gives me a startled look when I take his hand in mine and I give him a look in return that says '_just follow my lead or I'll leave you here to talk to her alone_'. I smile to the woman and turn before she can depart any more wisdom on us and take the stairs to the second floor two at a time, pulling Harry along behind me as I go. Our room is at the back of the building and once inside I drop Harry's hand and close the door, locking it and dropping my bag on the floor before sagging against the door. I watch as Harry wanders over to the large bed in the center of the room where he drops his bag down and flops onto the mattress. It's a moment before either one of us says anything.

"Did that just happen?" Harry asks as he looks over at me when I push myself away from the door and walk over to him.

I run a hand through my hair and let out a laugh that boarders on nervous and annoyed. "I didn't think she'd ever stop talking." I sit down on the edge of the bed, though I keep my distance from Harry.

"She thought you were my boyfriend."

"She wouldn't even listen to me when I said that we weren't, didn't even try. Pretty rude if you ask me."

Harry snorts and turns his head to look at me. "I don't really think that she was the listening type to be honest with you."

"No kidding…not that her advice was bad, but seriously, do we look like a couple? She was just making assumptions about is because we asked for a single room. I mean…is there something wrong with wanting to save money?"

"So does that mean you don't want me to take you on a nice romantic dinner?" Harry places a hand to his chest in mock offence and I roll my eyes at him.

"If we were a couple _I_ would be the one taking _you_ to dinner."

Harry frowns at that and props himself up on his elbows to look at me. "What makes you say that? Why would it be _you_ taking _me_ to dinner?"

Grinning, I lean back against the headboard and level him with a look. "Because you would be a girl in our relationship, that's why."

"What?! Why the hell would I be the girl? You're the one with the pretty hair!"

The moment the words are out of Harry's mouth I want to laugh at him, but I don't dare because he will only get upset. "You're the small feminine one."

"You're the one that packed all of the clothes!"

"You're really going to throw that in my face again?"

"Sorry."

"Apology accepted."

"…You're still the girl."

I respond by reaching out with my foot to push at Harry's shoulder. "Twat."

"Prat."

"Tosser."

"Ass-hat."

"Did you just call me an _ass-hat_?" I ask after a moment of letting the insult sink in, a clearly bewildered look on my face.

Harry blushes and turns his face away from me. "Maybe I did and maybe I didn't."

Shaking my head I get up from the bed and move to stand over Harry, looking down at him with my hands on my hips. "Well I'm not paying money to just lie on the bed all day. Besides, if we stay up here for much longer that woman is going to think that we're having wild passionate sex and I'd rather her not be making innuendos when we see her next."

At my words Harry blushes all the way to the roots of his hair, and I would find it funny save for the blush that I know is creeping up on my own cheeks. _Damn…maybe you shouldn't say things like that to someone who might have a thing for you._ Running a hand through my hair, a nervous gesture that seems to be getting more frequent the more I spend time alone with Harry, I move away from the bed and go over to my bag. I don't want to take the whole thing with me since it is on the heavier side, but at the same time I don't want to leave it here. Harry seems to have picked up on this.

"I can cast a disillusionment charm on it if you want."

I think for a moment before finally nodding my head. "Thanks." It seems silly to even me that after two years I have an unhealthy attachment to my things, but it isn't something that I can help it seems either. The time I spend on the streets taught me some valuable lessons and one of those was treasure what you have now because it could get taken away from you in a heartbeat. The thought makes my heart thump uncomfortably when I glance towards Harry. In the last few weeks being with Harry; laughing with him, talking with him, not being afraid to let my guard down around him, being his friend, it has meant more to me than I thought possible. The thought that this friendship could be ripped away from me at any given moment makes me feel sick to my stomach; for more reasons than I care to admit to myself.

"You alright?" Harry's voice is at my shoulder and when I turn my head just a fraction he's standing so close to me that I almost jump.

I nod shortly, not trusting my voice as I look down at him. There's a sudden urge in me to just reach out and pull Harry against me, to hold him and not let him go, but I don't. It makes my fingertips itch to touch him and the move against my sides before I stuff them into the pockets of my jeans to still them.

"So where do you want to go?" Harry's voice once again pulls me from my thoughts and I cast a glance at him to see that he's moved away from me and is now sitting on the bed again.

"Anywhere."

"So a walk around town and then a nice romantic dinner?" Harry's voice is teasing and I narrow my eyes at him.

"Are you that eager to be the girl in our relationship?" I ask with a smirk.

Harry frowns at me and sticks out his tongue. "I'm not the girl."

"You are so…you're just denying it." I say as I crouch next to my bag. "You're probably the type that loves movies like _You've got Mail_ and _Legends of the Fall_." I pull out my wallet from an outer pocket, check to see how much cash I have on me, and then set it on the floor before zipping the bag back up. "I bet that you've even got a secret fantasy of being kissed in rain and getting all mushy."

"Getting kissed in the rain? Really Malfoy?" Harry chuckles. 'Maybe that's your secret fantasy…but it isn't mine."

I turn and eye him for a moment before I smirk. "Then what is?"

Harry blinks at me. "Then what is what?"

"What's your secret fantasy? It has to be something sappy and disgustingly romantic."

I watch as Harry blushes for a split second before he bites his lower lip and shakes his head. "I'm not telling you anything like that, you'd find a way to turn it against me."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"No."

"Come on! This is a once in a lifetime chance to hear what Draco Malfoy dreams about!"

"Nope."

"Why not? Scared Potter?"

At that Harry glares at me and without warning grabs a pillow and throws it at me. I duck it just in time to have another one hit me square in the face. Harry is laughing as I narrow my eyes at him so he's distracted when I pick up the pillow and walk over to him and slam it down on his head.

"Hey!" I've actually knocked him over a little bit and I grin when he sputters at me. "What did you do that for?!"

"You seem to forget that you threw it at me first. All's fair in love and war." I still have the pillow in my hand and when Harry makes a move to grab one of the other pillows I whack him again, this time on the arm. "Don't even think about it."

"You're a bully, you know that?" Harry whines but it doesn't have the desired effect on me; he probably thought I was going to be nice and leave him alone, but I'm still a Slytherin at heart and it's just not in me to give into whining.

"Take the pillow away from me and then I'll stop…and no you can't use magic." I add when his hand goes for the wand I know he has in his jeans pocket.

Harry growls at me and before I know it he's twisted around and pushed me, _hard_. I land face down on the bed with a muffled grunt and before I can even try and push myself up again he's whacked me in the back of the head with another pillow. I seem to have forgotten how damn fast Harry is when he wants to be, a miscalculation on my part really. He's laughing now and I turn my head to look over my shoulder at him.

"You're going down Potter." I say through gritted teeth before I attack. Harry doesn't even know what hit him as I kick out my legs and catch him off guard, sending him crashing to the floor in a pile of limbs. Turning over I sit up and look down at him with a grin. "Lost your balance did you?"

Harry glares up at me, but it isn't hostile at all. "You are a dirty fighter."

I let myself look offended by that. "It isn't my fault that you have no balance or the fact that you seem to be more comfortable on your back."

This makes Harry blush hotly as he pushes himself up into a sitting position at my feet. His hair is a mess from being hit with the pillow and his face is red, not to mention the fact that his clothing is askew from landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. He looks like he's just been thoroughly snogged; a thought that goes directly to a part of me that doesn't need to think about that.

I swallow against a lump in my throat before I speak. "You done pouting on the floor? I still want to go out."

Harry sits there for a moment before he sighs and holds his hand out to me and I don't even hesitate as I stand and take it, pulling him to his feet. The only problem now is that he's standing awfully close to me and neither one of us has dropped the others hand. My heart is beating hard in my chest and hold my breath as Harry ever so slightly leans in towards me. His lips are parted just a fraction and my eyes glance down at them before snapping back up to his face where his green eyes are fixed on my own. Harry is so close that I can feel his breath on my face and the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him becomes so strong that I'm moving before I can stop myself. My eyes stay open, though Harry's flutter shut, his long dark lashes like a stain against his cheeks. My free hand comes up of its own accord to hold Harry's hip, pulling him gently against me; I can feel him shaking ever so slightly and whether it's from nerves or excitement I don't know. Maybe it's my own body that's shaking who knows?

Ever so slowly the space between us is closing; our breaths mingling as I finally let my eyes slowly close just before I close the distance and….a loud knock on the door breaks us apart, both of us jumping away from the other like we were jabbed with a hot fire poker. My head is spinning with what had just been about to happen and I look at Harry to see that he has a similar expression on his face. We're both breathing heavily and my body is aching to be close to him again, to have him pressed close to me. When another knock sounds out against our door I speak before that little filter can stop me.

"Whoever that is _sod off!_"

I can hear the person on the other side of the door mutter something but I don't try and make out what it is, instead I'm looking at Harry who is looking anywhere but at me.

"Harry." He still doesn't look at me and I clench my jaw. "Look at me Harry."

At the small command he glances at me but then looks away again before turning and walking towards the far side of the room where there is a bench seat against the large window. _To hell with this,_ I think and before I know what I'm doing I'm crossing the room in a few strides, closing the distance between us before Harry can even react. Placing a hand on his shoulder I spin him around and with the other hand reach up to tilt his chin towards me. I spare a second to look back and forth in his eyes; to see the surprise and anticipation there before I close the gap fully and press my lips to his.

Harry's lips are warm and soft against my own and the gasp that escapes through them makes me pull him even closer to me. The hand at his chin has slipped down to hold his jaw gently, cradling it as if it were fragile, while the hand on his shoulder has dropped down to wrapped around his waist. As our lips move tentatively against the one another's Harry has lifted his own hands to hold my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. I feel him push against me after a moment, not in a way that would separate us, but in a way that gets him even closer to me. Our bodies are now flush against one another's, our arms enveloping the other so that I can actually feel the thumping of his heart against my chest.

Through it all our lips have not left one another's; they move together like a practised dance of soft sighs and gentle nips of affection. I've never had a kiss before that felt like this, never once thought that I'd be sharing it with a boy let alone Harry. For years I hated him and he hated me; there was nothing between us but animosity and the desire to hurt the other. We gave both mental and physical scars, the kind that most people would not be able to forgiven and forget, but here we were doing just that.

Harry moaned softly against my lips then and the sound of it sent a shiver of desire through my body, making me groan in response. Suddenly having Harry pressed hard against me wasn't close enough, I wanted more, _needed_ more. Taking hold of Harry's hips I manoeuvre him around and backed him up until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He made a small sound in the back of his throat as I pulled my lips away from him, taking deep breathes to calm myself as I rested my forehead against his. Harry was breathing just as deeply as I was and his hands were clenched in the material of my shirt.

"Draco…" He whispered my name and pulled back enough just to look me in the eyes. "…Why?"

I blinked at him and opened by mouth to respond but nothing came out. It took me a few moments before I could find my voice. "Because I want to."

Harry frowned at this. "You do? Since when?"

"Do you fancy me Harry?"

It takes Harry even more time to answer this question but when he does my heart thumps so hard that it almost hurts. "Yes."

"Then does it really matter why I want to kiss you?" I ask as my hands tighten against his hips, my thumbs gently stroking the strip of skin between his jeans and shirt.

"It does if you're just doing this to fuck with me." Harry replies with just a hint of bitterness to his voice.

I blink and frown, pulling back and lifting a hand to tilt his face up towards mine. "I'm not fucking around with you Harry. I've wanted to kiss you for a while now; I just never had the guts to do it. I didn't know if you were going to freak out and run away from me or hit me for doing it. I didn't want to mess up the friendship that we finally have." Harry closes his eyes at this and I lean down to kiss him again, chastely this time, before I pull back. "I like you Harry."

"I can tell." Harry smiles shyly at me through his fringe and I reach up to brush it from his eyes. "Unless you kiss all of your friends like that."

I have to blush at this. "Shut up brat."

"So where do we go from here?" Harry asks.

I shrug my shoulders. "Anywhere we want it to go I think."

Harry smiles at this and leans up to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth before pressing one to my lips as well. We spend a few more minutes simply enjoying the other, of kissing and holding and being able to touch before we finally pull apart. When we do I have to laugh at the situation and Harry frowns at me for it.

"What?"

"I think maybe everyone else got it right before we did, that's all. Sam said that we would end up like this and the woman downstairs seems to have come to the conclusion that we were together…maybe they all knew something we didn't."

Harry shakes his head at me. "And here I was thinking that it would take an emotional tank to get through your defences." He grins as he tilts his head to the side. "All it took really was some stranger saying you were my boyfriend to make you snog the living daylights out of me."

I roll my eyes at this and swat at him. "You really are a brat."

"But you like me anyways."

I pause to smile. "Yeah…I do."

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Authors note: Once again I am sorry that this chapter took so long to get posted. I hope that everyone enjoyed it. I was originally not going to write in Harry and Draco's first kiss but I think that it going to create some nice tension in future! Anyways, please review and let me know what you thought!


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